


Gohen : Redemption

by Orchyd Constyne (slarmstrong)



Series: Tears of Blood [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 53,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slarmstrong/pseuds/Orchyd%20Constyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuation of "Darthol i Aur". We see how Erestor and Maglor have continued after "Darthol" ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Title: Gohen : Redemption  
Chapter: Prologue  
Author: S.L. Armstrong  
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net  
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.  
Rating: NC-17 overall  
Warnings: angst, vampy-ness  
Beta: Ilye  
Cast: Erestor/Maglor  
Summary: The continuation of _Darthol i Aur_. We see how Erestor and Maglor have continued after _Darthol_ ended.

\---

**Prologue**

It is raining. It always rains here.

I shelf another book and proceed with the next. Several new additions to add this week, and I wonder how Marcus is fairing. Leaving him alone in the apartment is never a good idea; the guy doesn't sleep much, and he can sure make a mess.

A mess _I_ have to clean up.

The phone rings and I sigh in exasperation. The fates enjoy annoying me, I think. I rush to the front counter, picking up the portable telephone.

"Seattle Antique Books, this is Vincent. How can I help you?"

I write down the name of the book the young woman is looking for, adding her name and her phone number to the note. No, we do not have that in stock, I inform her, but I will be happy to let her know should a copy come into my possession. No, I do not have anything 'in the back'... there is no 'in the back'!

She hangs up as I promise once more to call when the book comes in.

I return to my shelves, placing the books in the correct sections. It is not a large shop, my bookstore. But, it is mine. I feel at peace around the ancient tomes, even if Marcus thinks I have lost my mind. 'Books! All you do is read your books!' he usually exclaims when he finds me in the old, overstuffed chair by the window in our apartment. And I invariably roll my eyes, pick up my mug of hot tea, and return to my book.

For someone so educated, Marcus hates books.

He says he hates history.

I say he is afraid of history.

We avoid the topic of books unless he is poking fun at me while I read. Which I allow; it amuses me when he does it.

I put the last book up and look out of the windows at the front of the store. It's still raining, but the light has left the sky. Almost time to close up for the day.

I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs that connects our apartment to my little haven of history. His grey eyes meet mine, and he smiles. He is beautiful when he smiles.

"Are you done with your books?" he asks, brushing long, dark locks back from his shoulders.

"Yes, I am," I reply coolly.

He rests on the counter, watching me finish up for the day. "Will you come with me?"

"Later."

He sighs and cups my cheek with his hand, bringing our lips together for a brief kiss. "Then I will see you later, love."

I smile and nod. "Yes. After ten."

"Ok." He slips on his duster and picks up an umbrella. "Be careful, Erestor. Drive carefully."

I nod again. "I will. I love you, Maglor." It is a phrase I do not say too often, but it feels right tonight. He winks at me as he steps out into the Seattle night, head bent and umbrella up.

TBC...


	2. Chapter One

** Chapter One **

He walked through the club. It was not like an ordinary nightclub. This was a respectable establishment. Tables and chairs were strategically placed around the intimate space, consisting of a small dancing area, a well-stocked bar, and live, classy entertainment. The lights were low, and there were dozens of people watching the figure up on the stage. Erestor's eyes were drawn to the singer whose low, musical voice crooned about lost love. 

Maglor's tall, pale form was huddled around the microphone, his eyes heavy-lidded and his body moving in a sensual sway. The music accompanying him was deep, slow, throbbing. It called to Erestor's blood and set him on edge; it called to the hunger within him. His dark eyes raked down Maglor's body. He was clad in crimson silk; the poet shirt was tucked into skin-tight black jeans and black boots poked out from under the pant legs. The dark sable tresses hung free about Maglor's slender, aristocratic features, and glittering grey eyes held the audience captive.

The last son of Fëanor to walk Middle-Earth was a sight of gothic beauty.

As Erestor came closer to the stage, the glances cast his way were not lost on him. If Maglor was gothic beauty personified, Erestor was living darkness. He was fluid, graceful, tall and fell. His black eyes took in all activity around him, unblinking and hard. His black tresses were tied neatly back from his face, though he hid the pointed tips of his ears with carefully placed locks. A simple, thin black dress shirt covered his torso, the silk hanging perfectly from his body. Just like Maglor, his lower body was hugged in tight black jeans, though his feet were covered with fine leather loafers, not heavy black boots.

Erestor slid into a chair by a table in the corner. He scanned the surrounding mortals, sensing from each what had brought them to the club this night. The progression of time and necessity had worked to hone their particular talents and gifts, and now Erestor could skim a mortal's thoughts with a lingering glance, while Maglor's ability to influence emotion through song and music became eerily acute. Such nights as this were now part of an intricate dance between Maglor and Erestor. As Maglor sang, distracting his audience with his spell of sound, Erestor would seek a partner for them for the evening.

Partner, of course, was a contrivance to hide the true meaning. It meant that they had to feed. Mortal blood, sadly, was a pale and bland thing compared to the richness of Eldarin blood. As the world that had borne them slipped from history into myth into fiction, Maglor and Erestor had been forced to feed more often to sustain themselves. By now, it had become a nightly occurrence. Finding victims from which to feed naturally became more difficult as well. To that end, Maglor had purchased a failing nightclub and converted it into this haven for "alternative lifestyles" that they called 'Melindor' as a private joke between them. The ancient Quenya word for "male lovers" seemed an appropriate title, even if no one else remembered it.

It amused Erestor in a sad sort of way to witness how societies through the ages attempted to deal with those with preferences contrary to the majority. In varying measures, so-called "civilized" society tried to ignore them, shun them, destroy them, and "cure" them. Yet for all of that, there was never a shortage of that particular type of Man whose loves ran to those of the same gender. For instance, the gentle-faced youngster sitting at the bar nursing the same drink for the last fifteen minutes. Erestor brushed across the preoccupied mind. It seemed that David had been rejected by his lover of the past year. That lover had bristled at the suggestion of a long-term commitment, and left David in order to return to his estranged wife, who David had known nothing about.

Erestor subtly attracted Maglor's attention and indicated the young man with his eyes. The elder Noldo nodded almost imperceptibly, and turned slightly, focusing his power on the single target. Erestor, meanwhile, stood from his chair and wove through the crowd with catlike grace, easing gently onto the barstool beside David. The tawny-haired mortal had turned to stare at Maglor on the stage, drawn by the power infused into that silky voice, and had not noticed Erestor at all. Only when the song ended and Maglor stepped off the stage to enthusiastic applause did David blink and realize that the empty stool beside him was now occupied.

"I apologize for startling you," Erestor began coolly, "but you seemed so engrossed that I didn't want to disturb you."

"What? Oh, the music. Yes, I guess I was," David stammered. He moved to hold out his hand, and seemed surprised to find that it still held his drink. He tossed the double back in a sudden, jerky motion and set the glass back on the bar, and then offered his hand again. "I'm David," he continued. "Can I buy you a drink? Least I can do for not noticing you there."

Erestor shook David's hand, favoring the youngster with a sly smile. "No, no, I insist. My stake in this club should be worth something." He signaled the bartender for two drinks identical to the one David had just finished. "I am Vincent Laurel. Pleased to meet you, David." Erestor wrapped his lips around the name as though he could make love to the word itself.

David's eyes widened. "You're Vincent Laurel? _The_ Vincent Laurel? Half-owner of this place? Wow! You're virtually a legend at the Pride Foundation. I've volunteered there a few times, and there was hardly an hour that went by that someone didn't mention your name or the hundred thousand dollars you donated to help them get started."

"And to think, Vincent, you wanted to donate it to Greenpeace," Maglor teased as he approached Erestor from behind. He placed his hand on his partner's shoulder and smiled at David. "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

David's jaw fell open. "Oh, my God. You're Marcus D'amras! I'm David, David Selman." He clasped Maglor's free hand in both of his own and shook it vigorously. Maglor shot Erestor an arrogant smirk; Erestor simply rolled his eyes.

Maglor retrieved his hand from David's overeager grasp and reached for one of the shot glasses -- now numbering three, thanks to the attentive bartender -- and raised it as a toast. David quickly picked up his own glass, and Erestor followed suit a moment later. "To the Power of Pride," Maglor said simply. He started to bring the glass to his lips, and then playfully added, "And money."

The three shots were drained and the empty glasses disappeared from the bar soon thereafter. Maglor leaned down to Erestor and said, deliberately loud enough for David to hear, "Vincent, love, I'm half dead. What do you say we get out of here and grab a coffee somewhere?"

It took only the subtlest nudge of preternatural influence for David's mind to fill in the rest. He cleared his throat just as Erestor was opening his mouth to reply. "Umm... look, if you two don't really have any plans, you want to drop by my apartment? I mean, it's not much to look at, but it's only three blocks from here, and my lover -- well, my ex-lover -- always said I made a hell of a cup of coffee."

Maglor shot David another of those killer smiles, and Erestor was certain the Man was going to burst into flames right there. "What do you say, Vincent?" he asked needlessly. "Fancy going for a stroll?"

Erestor forced a smile. Now that the moment was so close, the hunger began to gnaw at him. His control was never as finely honed as Maglor's, and he struggled with it even into this modern Age. "By all means. Lead the way, David."

They followed the Man to his apartment, a small, modest loft. It was sparsely furnished, and David continued to apologize for how shabby he thought it was. Erestor smiled at the nervous youth. "Don't worry about it, David. Really. It's lovely in its simplicity. Too many in this day and age believe material possessions equal class." Erestor leaned in close, inhaling the musk of his soon-to-be bed partner. "And that is by no means true," he finished, his lips inches from the flushing Man.

"D-d-do you want decaf?" David managed, still rooted to the spot, staring at Erestor's full lips.

Maglor moved around behind David, whispering into his ear. "No, we are not interested in coffee, dear David. We are interested in... other delicacies we hope you don't mind indulging us with."

David's eyes seemed to glaze over as Maglor spoke, and Erestor's hunger burned. "Other... delicacies?" the boy asked quietly, his pink lips parted and moist. Erestor could no longer resist and closed what little distance there was between them, kissing David slowly. He slipped his tongue into the hot, eager mouth that tasted of vodka, and sensually stroked and caressed David's mouth. Through half-lidded eyes, Erestor watched Maglor bend his head to David's throat, kissing and sucking his way up the slender neck.

It was a seduction they were well acquainted with.

Erestor left David's mouth, stroking the dazed Man's cheek with his fingers. "Where is the bedroom?" he asked, lapping at the swelling lips before him.

David blinked twice, surfacing from the fog of desire the two Elves had submerged him into, and led them back behind the kitchen. The bed was large, and made, which actually surprised Erestor. He had thought the boy would have still been too depressed to bother with such cleanliness. David stood between the dark beings again, moaning quietly as his clothing was slowly stripped from him and his skin was teased by lips and hands. Before long, the three had moved onto the bed, David still between them, their hard and nude bodies pressing together.

Maglor pulled a condom from his jeans and handed it to Erestor, smiling darkly at his partner who continued to coax the Man into a sexual frenzy. Erestor nipped at David's ear, looking into the hazel eyes, pupils wide and his gaze glassy. "I am going to fuck you now, David," he informed him simply. David whimpered and nodded, the youth's cock twitching with the words.

Erestor scooted back to rest himself against the headboard, rolling the thin piece of latex down his shaft. As he stroked himself through the condom, he watched Maglor prepare David. The Man was exquisite, and Erestor thought the lover who left him was missing so much. David mewled as he was stretched and lubricated, his eyes focused entirely on Erestor's dark gaze. Erestor could feel David's need, his desire to please and be pleased. This one was special. Maglor moved away, wiping his hand on the bedspread. "We want to pleasure you, lover," the elder Noldo said, his deep voice like liquid fire. Erestor pulled David back against him, allowing the Man to face Maglor while Erestor impaled him from behind. He sunk easily into the young, tight body, and a low moan slipped from his lips while David cried out in pained-pleasure.

They set a languid pace; David rode Erestor's length with skill. Maglor crawled between their spread legs, taking David's neglected arousal into his mouth. As he undulated his throat around the firm flesh, wringing sharp cried and whimpered pleas from David, Erestor brought his lips to David's shoulder. He nipped and kissed up the soft skin until his lips rested over the tender meat of where David's throat met his shoulder. Erestor's blazing eyes met Maglor's for a moment before his fangs sank into David, the pain of the puncture almost immediately swept away by the lust in Erestor's mind invading David's.

David continued to grind against Erestor, his eyes closed as he brought himself closer and closer to climax. Maglor let David's shaft fall from his lips, though he continued to stroke him with his hand. He sought instead a spot on the Man's thigh where there was no danger of puncturing an artery. When he located a safe area, he bit into the flesh, his mouth flooding with the rich, coppery fluid and his mind reeling with the sexual potency of David's blood.

As they fed, David was unaware of their activities. He moved relentlessly on Erestor's length while Maglor stroked his own. Finally, Erestor pulled away from the boy, swiping his tongue over the seeping wounds until the pinprick marks stopped bleeding. As David stiffened in Erestor's arms, his seed coating Maglor's hand, the elder Noldo released David's thigh.

The sandy-haired Man fell back against Erestor's chest, already in a deep, sated sleep. Maglor helped David off of Erestor, and they carefully put him to bed. They dressed and removed all trace of their presence from the loft. Still high and aroused from the feeding, the two Elves quickly and silently returned to their little home above the bookstore. Though Erestor could have reached his own completion with David, he had held back.

Tonight, he was Maglor's.

Smelling of sex and blood, Maglor pulled Erestor along, entering the small bathroom. Steam filled the room as they stripped, tossing their clothes carelessly to the floor. Hot water pulsed down their pale bodies, and their mouths met in a fierce kiss. Maglor forcefully turned Erestor around, running his hands along the slick back.

"You enjoy the game, don't you?" he asked, his fingers resting against the entrance to Erestor's body. "Teasing them, working them up into a frenzy so we can take what we need." Maglor suckled on Erestor's neck as he pressed into the eager body.

Erestor moaned loudly. "It is a game you taught me," he panted, his cock still achingly hard. "Why should I not take pleasure in it?"

Maglor breached Erestor's channel with his length, burying himself easily into the body he had loved for centuries uncounted. He reached around Erestor's body, taking the heated flesh in his hand, and stroked in time to his furious thrusts. "You tease me," he whispered harshly into Erestor's ear. "Do you not think I can sense it, Erestor? Hmm? Your thoughts rolling through their mind, enflaming my passion through their blood?"

"You know you love what I do," Erestor replied, crying out sharply as Maglor squeezed his hand.

"You are a dark one, melethen," Maglor said, his voice hitching as his orgasm approached. "You always were."

Erestor pushed his slick length through Maglor's fist once more, his hand reaching out to steady himself as he spilled himself over the talented hand. As his body convulsed around the thick shaft filling him, Maglor hugged him close, his essence flooding the younger Noldo. They remained in the position, locked together, their hearts beating as one; the Man's blood still was coursing through their bodies.

The water began to cool, and Maglor withdrew from Erestor's body. They washed quickly and in silence. Once dry, they fell into the soft, large bed they shared. The sunrise was still a few hours off, and Maglor held Erestor close in the quiet of their room. Soon, reverie found them, though Erestor's sleep was troubled.

It was always troubled.

Blue eyes, full of warmth and laughter, haunted his rest.

Eyes he simply wanted to forget.

TBC...

Quenya/English:  
Melindol : Lovers (m)


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

They woke late. It was a day off for them both. Sundays were lazy days, even for them.

The two Elves had a routine, a sense of domesticity to their daily lives. Maglor brewed tea in a press while Erestor separated the trash into the recycle bins. Erestor chose some eggs from their refrigerator, stocked with organic, locally grown foods, and Maglor prepared whole grain toast. The food would not nourish them, of course, but the bounty of this world was not to be denied. They chatted idly, scrambling eggs in a bowl and pouring tea into delicate china cups.

It was almost normal.

Maglor shooed Erestor to the small terrace outside their living room. He slathered the thick pieces of hot bread with cream cheese, piled a tray with their breakfast fare, and joined his lover outside. The sun had risen, though Maglor could smell rain still in the air. Erestor squinted as he looked into the grey sky. He lowered his dark gaze to the tall Noldo setting the table.

"It always rains here," he said, lifting the tea to his lips.

Maglor sighed and sat down. "You didn't like LA. You didn't care for Chicago. And let's not speak of how you behaved in Miami."

Erestor set his cup down firmly. "Well, those poor dolphins! What did you want me to do? "

The elder Elf lifted a berry from the tray and threw it at the indignant librarian. "Eat your breakfast."

They ate in silence, looking out over the city. When Maglor finished his second helping of toast and eggs, he spoke. "What do you plan to do with your day?"

"I am not sure. There are books I should catalogue," Erestor said, pouring them each another cup of tea. "But, I know how you feel about my books."

Maglor smirked into his cup. "Yes. I feel about them as you feel about the television in the living room."

Erestor scoffed. "Come now, Maglor. Why on earth would you need such a big thing? Your genitals are perfectly satisfactory, so I am not sure why I had to sacrifice most of my wall space for that monstrosity!"

"That television _does_ have the History Channel on it. I got the extended cable package specifically for you, you know," Maglor shot back.

"Of course! And it has nothing to do with the fact that you can watch Queer as Folk on no less than 8 different Showtimes!" Erestor stacked the tray and re-entered their apartment. "For someone so revered for his poetry and music, you are a historical dud."

Maglor laughed, closing the doors behind him. " _I_ am a historical dud? I wrote of the plight of the Noldor, don't forget. I recorded our histories until I felt smothered by it! You, though -- you hide in your archaic books, never seeing the world around you. Times have changed, and you either change with them, or you are left behind."

The younger Elf slammed his hand on the counter. "I would not be here if it were not for you!" he shouted.

"No! You would have died in that pit! You would have wandered about Mandos' Halls for an Age and then be reborn into the perfect world you have so idolized in your mind! This song and dance is becoming old, Erestor." Maglor walked up to Erestor, forcing the dark eyes to meet his. "We have survived. Be content with that."

Erestor pulled from Maglor's grip. "Content with what? This?" he asked, gesturing about them. The rooms were an eclectic mix of modern and antique -- a meshing of the old world and the new. The massive plasma television had an early-century radio resting atop it; the sofa was supple leather and beside it was a table Erestor had picked up in the early 1600's, the controls for the television and DVD player resting carelessly on the dull surface.

Maglor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Really, Erestor. Every decade or two, we go through this. And always on the same day." The elder Elf leaned in, his face near the shocked librarian's. "Oh yes. I know what day this is, lover. It's the day--"

Without thinking of his actions, Erestor swung his hand, palm open, landing a solid blow to Maglor's left cheek. They stared at each other in stunned silence, the sound of the strike resounding in their ears.

"Do you feel better now?" Maglor asked, his eyes cold and distant. "Can we return to our lives or will you wallow in your self-pity?"

Erestor looked away, swallowing hard. "Forgive me," he whispered. "I did not mean--"

Maglor held up a hand. "Yes, you did. I'll be at the club; I need to go over some records and the payroll."

Without another word, the elder vampire donned his jacket and walked out. The door did not slam as Erestor expected, but fell silently closed, which was almost worse.

*****

The club was empty except for the bartender, who was in the back, taking stock of their supplies. Maglor sat at the bar, hunched over the highly polished surface, staring into his empty tumbler.

"'I would not be here if it were not for you!'" he sneered, imitating Erestor. "Perhaps not," he mumbled drunkenly. "But, had it not been done, you never would have met _him_ , would you?" Maglor picked up the half-empty bottle, focusing on the black Bushmill's label. " _I_ am a historical dud? No, my dear Erestor, I think I am a well-rounded individual. _I_ can appreciate a twenty-one year old whiskey, after all." He went to pour more of the amber liquid into his glass, but stopped himself. "Fuck it," he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

As he sunk further into his alcohol-induced stupor, his mind began to wander. Maglor did not like to become this drunk; to become so drunk would mean his memories would surface. His memories were not something he cherished.

No.

They were meant to be forgotten. But, this afternoon, the whiskey helped his take a giant leap into his past.

*****

Maedhros looked at him over the rough table. Chill wind blew through the open window, and the sound of screaming children assaulted his hearing. He sighed and covered his face with his hands. "We are the last, tôren," he whispered.

The elder Elf nodded. "And we will not survive under this oath, Maglor."

"What do you suggest we do?" Maglor fixed his grey gaze on his brother's. "A foolish decision, was it not? We have watched each of them die, and I am sure we will see each other die as well, before this curse has run its course," he laughed bitterly.

Maedhros looked out the window, his eyes far away. "We could just stop."

Maglor's brow furrowed and he looked at Maedhros in confusion. "What do you mean 'just stop'?"

Those haunted eyes turned to him, a sad smile on the proud face. "Who says we cannot just _not_ do this anymore? We have seen the folly that has led our father and brothers to their doom, and we can choose not to follow them. We can make amends, tôr dithen, and regain our place!"

"Maedhros, I do not think it is so simple..." Maglor said hesitantly. "We swore, tôr iaur; we took an oath."

"Our _father_ took an oath, Maglor. We and our brothers followed him out of loyalty. And look at the reward their loyalty has given them! I choose to be loyal to myself!" The tall Elf leapt to his feet and crossed to the window in a single stride. "Do you hear me?" he bellowed into the night. "I renounce my loyalty! I renounce my oath!" Maedhros turned flashing eyes on his brother. "You see? I am still here! I am free, tôr dithen! Now, do you join me, or join our father?"

Maglor let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Just words. Nothing mystical or sacred loomed about their fates. They were just words! "Aye, brother, I will follow you. I renounce my oath," he said softly, forcing the statement past the sudden lump in his throat.

Maedhros turned back to the window and Maglor closed his eyes, letting out a long, shuddery sigh.

"So be it."

Maedhros spun around and Maglor's eyes shot open, only to find his sibling's vacated seat now occupied.

And there was no mistaking who sat in the wooden chair.

"Námo," Maglor whispered, his heart beating swiftly with fear.

The Vala's bright blue eyes were fixed on Maglor's large grey ones. He wore only a simple tunic and his dark hair was free, hanging to his waist. "Aye, Kanafinwë." Námo turned then to Maedhros, seeming to ignore Maglor. "Nelyafinwë. Just as proud as you always were. Melkor did nothing to quell that fire that burns brightly in you."

The copper-haired Elf stared defiantly at Námo. "Why have you come, Lord of Mandos?"

"Why, to grant your request," Námo replied, blinking as if in surprise. "You have asked to be released from your oath. And so you are. You need no longer fear sharing the doom of your brothers."

Maedhros smiled ferally at his brother.

"However," Námo continued, "your choice is not without its consequences."

"What consequences?" Maglor asked with a slight quaver in his voice. He watched Maedhros' smile fade from his lips, and saw the first hint of true fear in his brother's eyes.

Námo's demeanor stiffened. "You have a very large debt to repay, Kanafinwë. You both do. You wish to make amends? You will have that chance, but only on my terms. You and your brother have spilled rivers of Quendi blood; now that blood must be cleansed from this world."

"And how are we meant to do that?" Maedhros snapped.

"By drinking it, naturally."

Maedhros pounded the table with his fist. "What madness is this? Speak not in riddles!"

The Vala stood up slowly, and the room seemed to grow darker. "I speak only the truth, Nelyafinwë, literal and complete. Your body and that of your brother will no longer find nourishment from the food and drink of your kin, but only by consuming their living blood!"

Maglor stared in stunned silence. Even Maedhros stepped back in shock. The elder Fëanorian recovered quickly, though. "I see your truth now, Vala! We escaped the prison of your Doom, so now you revenge yourself by inflicting upon us this... vilification, this filth!"

A smile crossed the Vala's usually impassive face. "Why this reaction? You have preyed upon your kin for centuries; now you merely have to do it yourself instead of commanding armies to do it."

Maglor could sense Maedhros was about to unleash another tirade against the Vala, and he gently laid a hand on his brother's thigh to silence him. His eyes silently pleaded with Maedhros not to risk angering Námo further. Maedhros nodded reluctantly, and stood behind Maglor's chair while Námo continued to lay out the nature of this punishment.

He reiterated that they could still eat and drink the food of their youth, but that only by drinking the blood of living Quendi or Atani would they be able to sate their hunger. They would become creatures of the night, able to move about by day like any other, but not without some measure of discomfort and weakness. The night, though, would be their domain, and they would dominate it utterly. "Lest you think that I am without concern or compassion, I will not abandon you to this fate as you are," he explained. "I have petitioned the other Valar for such gifts as they might bestow upon you at this parting. For you see, as long as you shall bear this mark upon you, you shall never be permitted to return to the Blessed Realm."

The two Elves gasped at this. Their father may never emerge from the Halls of Waiting, but he at least had a hope of once again walking the shores of Valinor. Maedhros gripped Maglor's shoulder, but could not bring himself to say anything at this pronouncement.

"Manwë grants you the speed of the winds; Tulkas, the strength of the mountains; Aulë, sure-footedness and agility. Oromë will give you the claws and fangs of a predator, and Varda will light your eyes in the darkness of night. Vána confers upon you eternal agelessness surpassing even that of your race. Yavanna's gift is a friendship with the birds and beasts of Arda. Estë seeks to ease your guilt at feeding from others by bringing pleasure to both you and your victims during the act. Vairë gifts you with the ability to cloud the memory of those around you, while Nessa bestows the power to influence their emotions with voice and music, and Irmo offers passage through his realm into the dreams of others. Nienna regrets that her gift does not compare to others', but has vowed to protect you both from the weariness of spirit that the long stretches of time would otherwise burden you with.

"Understand that the path you will walk," Námo continued, "will be longer than any who have come before or will come after you. Not only will you be ageless, but because of _my_ gift to you, death will only find you in the primal fires of Arda or should a shaft of cold steel cleave your heart."

Maglor and Maedhros shared a quick glance. It was not lost on them whose name was missing. Ever the friend of the Teleri, Ulmo was unlikely to grant them any assistance. More probably, judging by the look on Námo's face, the Valar had had to restrain him from creating some worse punishment. Maglor had to admit a small amount of relief at that; there were doubtless worse fates to which they could have been condemned.

His message delivered, the Vala's stern composure began to crumble. He walked around the table and embraced Maedhros firmly, then pulled Maglor to his feet and did the same to the younger Elf. When he stepped back, tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. "Whether you believe it or not, the journey we send you on is far better than the one your brothers have chosen. Namárie, nildonyar. I fear we shall not meet again while the world yet remembers you."

Námo walked out the door and was gone.

*****

Maglor stared blearily at the bottle still in his hand, still half full. "And we never did," he growled out, drawing back and throwing the bottle into the far wall.

"That was a hundred dollar bottle of whiskey you just shattered."

The drunken vampire looked up to see his dark lover standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes veiled. "No," he replied. "That was a five hundred dollar bottle of whiskey I just shattered." Maglor stood when Erestor slowly walked to his side, his eyes cast to the floor. "Why are you here, Erestor?"

"I came to ask you to come home," Erestor said quietly. "It is late."

Maglor laughed. "'Late'. You say that as if it means something to us. Do you mean you want me to come back to that farce we call a home and argue with you as if we were a married couple?"

Erestor was silent for a moment while they stared at each other, but he finally broke the eye contact. "You are my lover."

"No, I am your corrupter -- or did you forget that?" Maglor demanded, grabbing Erestor's shoulders and shoving him against the bar. "Tell me, is your pain so much worse than mine, Erestor? You wouldn't know, now would you? You have never asked!" Maglor spat.

"Maglor," Erestor began in a soft voice, becoming pliant within Maglor's grip. "With you, I forget the pain for a while. Do you never find a respite from the pain when you are with me?"

Maglor made a sound that was between a sob and a groan as he captured Erestor's lips in a brutal kiss. He swept passed the younger Elf's lips and tasted him deeply; it was a taste uniquely Erestor, of cream and vanilla, even after the slighter Elf had fed. Maglor fumbled with the buttons on Erestor's jeans while Erestor did the same to his. "Up," Maglor panted against Erestor's lips and the librarian braced his arms on the bar top, lifting his body off the floor so Maglor could strip him of his pants.

The moment the dark jeans hit the floor, Erestor's bare legs snaked around Maglor's waist. Maglor pressed the head of his shaft against Erestor's backside.

"Wait!" Erestor cried, reaching behind the bar and grabbing a bottle of olive oil. "I cannot tell you," he said, pouring a small pool of oil into Maglor's hand, "how much I appreciate you deciding to serve cold foods in this place."

Maglor coated his length and smiled down at his lover. "You were just tired of walking out of here with a sore bottom."

Erestor groaned and clung to the counter as he was penetrated roughly. "You should try it sometime," he managed before Maglor began thrusting quickly within his body.

"I have," Maglor whispered, bending down and kissing Erestor again. He took the Elf's hard flesh into his hand and stroked firmly; this was not about tender lovemaking. This was simply how they made up after an argument.

Erestor reached his climax first, crying out his pleasure into Maglor's waiting mouth. He trembled in the older Elf's arms as Maglor withdrew and plunged back in with violent force, spending himself deep in Erestor's passage.

They rested like that, Erestor hanging onto the bar, his legs tight about Maglor's waist, and Maglor's arms around Erestor's back, still joined together. Maglor raised his head, kissing Erestor softly on the lips. "Yes," he said. "You ease my pain."

TBC...

Quenya/English  
Namárie, nildonyar : Farewell, my friends


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

He rolled out of the bed, his head pounding. It had been a week, and his head still ached. He stumbled into the bathroom, relieving himself while leaning his forehead to the wall. He fought back a wave of nausea before pushing away from the toilet, moving to the sink to brush his teeth. No time for a shower this morning; his guest should arrive soon, so he shaved and washed his face quickly.

In the mirror, the face looking back seemed haunted. Tired. And he was. He leaned his head to the side and peeled back the bandage from his neck. The bruising and swelling had finally gone down, and the two small wounds were almost gone. He put his foot on the edge of the tub and removed the gauze from his thigh, revealing a similar wound.

Two names formed in his head immediately: Vincent and Marcus.

David poured himself a cup of coffee and walked into his small living room. He pulled out a large book and laid it on the low table by the couch, along with his mug. He retrieved a few-weeks-old Seattle Gay News, a pair of scissors and some archival tape. David made himself comfortable on the sofa, sipping the coffee as he turned to one of the last pages in the large book.

Slowly and deliberately, David cut an article from the newspaper. He trimmed it, read it for the hundredth time, and then adhered it to the empty page of the book. The article showed Vincent, smiling brightly for the camera, with the head of the Pride Foundation; it told of the generous donation and all the work Vincent Laurel had done for the community.

While he waited for his guest to arrive, David idly turned back the pages in the scrapbook. There was the Miami tabloid article about the famous Dolphin Incident, of course. A few pages before that was a photocopy of the passenger manifest for the Italian cruise ship Antonia Doria. Two names in particular were highlighted: Marius D'amras and Vincenzo Laurellio. Both names were followed by the words "PRESUMED DECEASED". Presumed, of course, David thought, since the Antonia Doria and all 1,753 passengers and crew disappeared without a trace in the mid 1960's.

More pages back, and Marcus and Vincent's faces stared back at him from a faded black-and-white photograph. They were standing on a gangway, waving as they boarded a steamship. The picture was slightly out of focus, but not enough to blur the letters "RMS Titanic" on the side of the massive liner. Several pages before that was a yellowing newspaper clipping dated October 9, 1871. The city of Chicago had been engulfed in flames the previous night, and the article spoke of the heroism of individuals who tried to fight the blaze and rescue survivors. The picture accompanying the article showed a figure cradling a child in his arms -- a figure with Marcus' face.

David's personal favorite, though, was at the very beginning of this volume. The first page held an authentic "Wild West" wanted poster. The sketch was badly out of proportion, but to anyone who had met the man himself, it was clearly Vincent Laurel. According to the poster, Victor Logan was wanted by the authorities in Kansas City for "crimes of an unspeakable nature". David had spent many hours wondering exactly what could have been bad enough in those times that they could not be spoken of. Whatever they were, though, the Kansas City police apparently satisfied their desire for justice because the facing page held Victor Logan's death certificate with a notation that he had been "hanged by the neck until dead".

He was still musing over the possibilities when he heard the knock at the door. His guest was finally here. David set the scrapbook on the table and went to open the door.

"I want to see these wounds. How are you feeling? Any aftereffects? Have you seen them since then?"

David was pushed to the side as his father stormed into the loft apartment. "Hello to you, too, Dad." 

*****

Maglor heard Erestor's distinctive chortle for the third time in as many minutes, and finally had enough. He had few guilty pleasures, but the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle was one of them. It was very difficult, though, for him to remember an eight-letter word for "Gounod vocal composition" with his hyena of a lover braying in the next room. Huffing in annoyance, he placed the newspaper on the side table and stood the quill he'd been using in its place beside the inkwell. He got out of the recliner, wiping his blackened fingertips against his faded blue jeans rather than risk damaging the T-shirt that proclaimed "Dragon: The Other White Meat" that he bought at the local Renaissance Festival three years ago.

The small personal library was directly off the living room, and Erestor had left the door open, as usual. Maglor leaned against the doorframe and was about to scold him for it, but words simply failed him. Erestor lay draped across the overstuffed chair, head resting on a pillow against one arm, and legs crossed hanging over the other. He wore his favorite black silk pajama bottoms, and his chest was bare and smooth, almost glowing in the lamplight. He had not noticed Maglor's approach, or at least gave no notice of it. Maglor leaned in, trying to catch the title of the book that Erestor found so amusing.

"Oh, Valar, not _that_ again!" he groaned.

Erestor looked up from his battered and dog-eared copy of The Silmarillion. "What?"

"Why do you keep reading that rubbish?"

"Excuse me, you _lived_ this rubbish, remember?" the younger vampire chided, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I lived _that_ ," Maglor insisted, pointed a slender finger to a large red book on the far shelf, wedged between "Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns" and "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix".

Erestor followed Maglor's finger with his eyes, and then shrugged.

Maglor rolled his eyes. "All right, then. What is it that you find so amusing that you feel it necessary to chortle like a madman?"

"This whole passage about Ecthelion is hilarious. Do you know, it actually says that he killed Gothmog on _purpose_? As though he would consciously decide to stumble head first into a Balrog and then fall backwards into a fountain! Not to mention, this makes it sound like that fountain was fifty feet deep! It was barely chest deep, and he managed to drown in it."

"Well, he did have a Balrog lying on top of him."

"He was also drunk at the time."

"And how do you know that?"

Erestor cocked his head toward the far shelf, indicating the same red book Maglor had pointed to earlier.

Maglor shifted his weight, moving slightly away from the doorframe. "Really?" he asked with genuine interest in his voice. "Maybe I should read that one after all."

The black-eyed Elf laid the book on a side table and regarded Maglor coolly. "I don't think you'd enjoy it that much. There aren't any pictures at *all*."

"Ha ha. Watch out, or I'll rig the DVD player to replay The Council of Elrond over and over and turn the volume way up. Again."

Erestor groaned. "Oh, all right. I need a brandy. Do you want one?"

"Do I ever say 'no' to that question?"

Erestor stood and started for the door. "No, I asked 'Do you want brandy?', not 'Do you feel randy?'" he teased, earning him a swat on the backside from Maglor as he passed.

Maglor noticed that Erestor had knocked the book onto the floor, and he bent to pick it up. The book fell open in his hand at Erestor's bookmark. Sure enough, there was Ecthelion in his heroic glory, valiantly sacrificing himself to destroy the Lord of the Balrogs. His curiosity piqued, he wondered about what this Tolkien fellow had to say about the _real_ hero of that day.

The elder vampire turned the page, and his mouth fell open. Erestor had blackened the entire passage that would have dealt with the passage through the Cirith Thoronath. Flipping back a few pages, Maglor found other passages blacked out. He turned to the end of the book, to the index. Sure enough, there it was -- one thick black mark between Glóredhel and Golodhrim.

Erestor walked through the door again, carrying two snifters of brandy. He stopped short, his eyes wide as Maglor held up the index of the Silmarillion, displaying the dark mark.

"Was it _that_ far off?" Maglor asked, his grey gaze boring into Erestor's.

Erestor was still for a moment, and then kicked back the small amount of brandy in one of the glasses. His eyes fell to the second glass, which he promptly kicked back as well. Erestor calmly placed the fragile glasses on the nearby bookshelf and said in a low, dangerous voice, "Give that to me."

Maglor closed the book slowly, handing it to Erestor who snatched the volume from him. "You have to talk about it eventually, Erestor."

Erestor purposefully turned his back to Maglor, retreating to their bedroom with Maglor close behind him. Maglor's voice was tight, sharp as he called after Erestor. "Dammit Erestor, how long do you intend to keep this up? Pretending he didn't exist?" The book flew past Maglor's nose, thudding heavily against the wall. Maglor took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm in the face of Erestor's pain and anger. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, less harsh. "Why do you do this to yourself? You wallow in the past, in those musty old books downstairs. And yet, you deny your own past, no matter how much it hurts you to do so."

"Let it go, Maglor," Erestor warned, his face tight with anger.

Maglor crossed his arms, his temper flaring. "How about this time we _don't_ let it go? How about you face up to the truth and tell me what happened?"

Erestor looked out one of the large windows. "It doesn't matter. It's done."

The elder vampire stepped forward, raising his voice at his lover. "You loved that Elf for so very long!"

"Haven't you heard?" Erestor sneered. "This is the twenty-first century; there is no such thing as Elves."

"Well, you sure as hell aren't Doctor Spock with those ears!" Maglor spat.

Erestor shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's _Mister_ Spock, you idiot," Erestor said, waving his hands at Maglor. " _Doctor_ Spock wrote books about raising children!"

Maglor smirked. "Really? Did he ever write one on how to deal with temper tantrums? Children in denial?"

"Yes," Erestor replied calmly. "It was called 'Leave Me the Fuck Alone If You Don't Want A Steel Rod Through Your Chest'."

Ever the sarcastic one, Maglor replied, "Does it come in paperback? Or better yet, Books On Tape?"

Erestor began making their bed... again. "You know, just go back to your crossword, Maglor."

"Erestor!" Maglor yelled, grabbing the shorter Elf by the shoulders and forcing him to meet his gaze. "He existed! You cannot wipe him out by never saying his name, by crossing him out of books! He was real. He was alive. He was your heart. He was your goddamn soul!"

"Fine!" Erestor cried out, tears forming in his eyes. "If I tell you, will you fucking drop it? Forever?" he asked, amazing both himself and Maglor with the extent of his vulgarity this day.

Maglor released Erestor's trembling shoulders, taking his lover's hand in his and drawing him to the bed. Erestor rested his head wearily against Maglor's shoulder and drew in a deep breath.

"1679 was when it started to go wrong," he began. "We were Prague. The Black Plague was rampant; death was all about us. We didn't know then, but there was another plague starting that year. A plague with only one victim.

Glorfindel."

TBC...


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_Prague, Kingdom of Bohemia, Winter of 1679_

Glorfindel settled himself on the edge of the marble basin they used for bathing. His azure eyes scanned the opulent bathing room, a smile tugging at his lips as he drew the silver hairbrush through his golden locks. Though he remained beautiful and his body was sculpted from his years as a warrior for one king or another, he had begun to show age. His hair was long and thick, shimmering in the candlelight, and his features youthful in appearance, but Glorfindel could see it when he glanced into a mirror.

He chuckled to himself. He did not appear as Círdan had when he had last seen the Telerë; his face was still free from hair and the weight of the years only marred his smooth features marginally. Glorfindel did not truly care about his appearance. His only concern was Erestor's happiness, for when Erestor smiled at him, all was right with his world.

The Elda closed his eyes, slowly dragging the brush through the thick mass, humming a cheerful Irish ballad he had picked up a few years before. Erestor had taken him all over the continent, moving to a new city when their presence began to cause the locals to talk. They never stayed more than a decade in any one place, and never returned to cities before fifty years had passed. It was in their best interests.

The Inquisition had been keenly interested in them. Their relationship could not be one of open love, since the acts they performed were considered immoral and illegal. Religion, politics, disease and time were all factors that forced them to conform, to hide themselves or risk drawing attention to them. It weighed heavily upon Glorfindel's spirit, but he refused to let Erestor see that burden. His lover devised means to distract him, but there were moments when the long years threatened to suffocate him.

He continued to hum to himself, the sounds of Erestor in the outer room comforting him as he directed the servants delivering their meal.

A sudden clatter forced Glorfindel from his reverie and he looked down into the bottom of the basin. The silver hairbrush rested on the marble, glinting in candlelight. Glorfindel's heart sped and he stared in wide-eyed fear at the hairbrush. He had not dropped it.

He knew he had not dropped the brush.

The brush had simply... slipped _through_ his hand.

Glorfindel pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing back the tears. He took several gulps of air, steadying himself before he reached down, his heart thundering in his chest. He reached down, his hand trembling slightly, and he touched the cool silver.

The Elda picked it up, feeling the solidity of the item in his hand.

It had begun. 

*****

_Luxemburg, The Netherlands, Autumn of 1694_

The weather was chill, but the room was glowing with the warmth of the fire. Erestor held out a dried piece of fruit, watching with hungry eyes as Glorfindel ate from his finger. The blond wrapped his tongue around Erestor's fingers, removing the sweet fruit from the digits, and smiling as he withdrew. Glorfindel's hair was untamed, his nude body golden in the firelight, and his cheeks still flushed from their lovemaking.

"You look like a debauched angel, love," Erestor said quietly, crossing the small space between them on his hands and knees.

Glorfindel smirked, his midnight blue eyes dancing in amusement. "You cannot possibly want to roll about on the floor again."

Erestor captured Glorfindel's lips and drank deeply. "I always want to roll about, whether be on the bed, sofa or floor. To have you above me, thrusting into my body and claiming me all over again, is heaven in this dirty, worn out world."

The Elda moaned, his desire flaring as the vampire ravaged his lips. Erestor leaned back slightly, his dark eyes intent on Glorfindel's face. "What is it?" Glorfindel asked, smiling lazily at his lover.

"I am simply struck silent by the love I feel for you," Erestor whispered, reaching out to cup Glorfindel's cheek. His features darkened, though, as his fingers did not find the heated, slightly damp skin -- simply suddenly cold air. Erestor snatched his hand back, an iron vise of fear surrounding his heart. "When did this begin?" he demanded, standing up.

Glorfindel drew his knees up to his chest, resting his hands on his knees and his head upon his hands. He gazed into the fire, tears shimmering in his eyes. "About fifteen years now."

Erestor's mind replayed the last decade and realized they had been slowly moving west. "Why did you not tell me?" he hissed, crouching before Glorfindel's weary face. "You should have spoken to me, Glorfindel! How _dare_ you keep this from me!"

"Tell you what, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked, his eyes narrowing. "We both knew it was inevitable. We were loving on borrowed time, and I did not want that time marred with regret. It is happening and there is naught we can do; just accept it!" Glorfindel shot up and stormed to the bathing room, but Erestor followed him.

"We do not have to simply accept it! Glorfindel, we continue to move westward." Erestor jumped in front of Glorfindel, grabbing his lover's face between his hands. "You will continue west," he said quietly, looking into Glorfindel's blue gaze.

Glorfindel tore away from him, the tears finally falling. "No! No, Erestor, I will _not_ leave you! You cannot force me to go." The Elda shook his head, deep sobs coming from his slender frame. "You cannot send me away," he breathed out, his cheek slick with his tears.

The Noldo drew Glorfindel into a tight embrace, his own tears coming silently. "You must go," he said brokenly. "If you remain here, you will leave me forever. Go to Aman; go back to your family, your home."

"Go home?" Glorfindel pulled back slightly, staring down into the face he had loved for over an Age. "What happiness is there if you are not by my side?"

Erestor brushed the new tears from Glorfindel's cheeks, smiling sadly. "I would rather know you are safe and well in Aman, Glorfindel, than see you slip from me, never to be seen again by any. You will go, and you will go soon."

Glorfindel shook his head again, burying his face into the crook of his lover's neck. They slowly fell to the floor, Glorfindel curling around Erestor's body while the dark Elf stroked his hair and trembling back. The sadness of the golden warrior was palpable and Erestor soon found his own tears falling into the shimmering hair he would soon never see again.

The two, light and dark, remained on the cold floor, in a tight embrace, shedding tears that their time in this world together had ended. 

*****

_Brest, France, Summer of 1696_

Night had come, and the lovers lay in each other's arms. The night was warm, and they lay nude among the soft bedclothes. Erestor caressed Glorfindel's face, his eyes never leaving the fair visage. They had traveled for a month from their home in the Netherlands to this seaside village in France.

During the last few years, since Glorfindel's admission, the Elda had been restless. Only when that restlessness had become acute and Glorfindel was practically clawing at the walls did they leave for the sea. They had taken their time moving west, riding for five and six hour days, dining together, and making love wherever they could. Erestor would fight down the urge in the wake of their passion to hold Glorfindel tight, to forbid the heartsick Elda from leaving him.

But, he knew this was best.

"Will you not have me tonight?" Glorfindel asked. Though Erestor had always preferred to be taken by Glorfindel, they had switched positions as of late. Glorfindel insisted on feeling Erestor inside him, the possession he felt.

Erestor shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Nay, melethen. I will not."

Glorfindel sighed, disappointment written in his eyes. "Why do you deny me this?"

The Noldo let his hand drop to the mattress. "It would pain my heart."

"And mine is _not_ pained?" Glorfindel pushed Erestor to his back, straddling the vampire's hips. "It is the last night, my darkness. You do not want to spend yourself in my body? Taste my life and love coursing through my blood? Know that, even in Aman, my life and my soul are ever yours?"

Erestor felt the tears fall from his eyes. "If I know that, I am afraid I will not be able to let you go," he said softly, rubbing the hollow of Glorfindel's hip with his thumb.

"When the sun rises," Glorfindel said, reaching behind his body and fondling Erestor's length, "I will sail from you. We have this moment left. Will you squander it?"

The dark Elf arched and moaned softly, his eyes closing slowly. "I am yours," he panted, his shaft filling quickly. He heard the bottle of oil open, the scent of lavender filling the room. A hot, slick hand stroked him, and he opened his eyes to see Glorfindel watching him intently.

"Do not look away," the golden one murmured, sitting up and positioning himself. Erestor's eyes remained focused on the azure gaze as Glorfindel slowly impaled himself; the Noldo sunk into tight, velvet warmth, taking a sharp breath in.

Glorfindel rocked atop Erestor, his hands traveling over his own body. Erestor reached for Glorfindel's erection, but his hand was pushed away. "Nay," he breathed. "I will be alone for a very long time, and I desire this memory to be what sustains me while I am far from you." Glorfindel gripped his own length, stroking in time with his rocking. "I will lie in my cold bed, tears on my lashes as I touch myself, remembering the thickness of you, how you filled me so perfectly, and I will find my release with bittersweet happiness."

Erestor began to thrust up, offering himself a little more friction, though the movements were still slow. Glorfindel moaned, his thighs tensing and the fluttering of his passage warned Erestor of his release. Heavy, warm drops spattered over his belly and he watched Glorfindel draw out his orgasm as long as he could. The Elda slumped forward, nestling his face in Erestor's neck. Erestor held onto Glorfindel's hips, thrusting firmly into the slack body.

"Feed from me."

The command was raspy, thick with emotion, and Erestor could not refuse his lover. He bit gently, making the intimate connection he would long for. His climax came upon him quickly, Glorfindel's own lust and love spurring him upward to that peak. As his seed filled Glorfindel's body, a wave of intense loss and sadness washed through them. They clung to one another, crying softly, kissing each other thoroughly and memorizing every contour and sound, smell and movement.

It would have to last them forever. 

***** 

Dawn came too soon. They dressed in silence. Erestor touched Glorfindel's cheek, offering him a watery smile. "I love you. You are my light and my life, my soul and all that is good about me."

Glorfindel's lips brushed his. "I love you, too. You are my darkness and my life, my soul and all that is wonderful about me."

They gazed into each other's eyes until the sun drenched their room, illuminating the golden warrior with her rays. They held hands and walked from the room, strolling through the streets to the wharf. The sea crashed, and the gulls shrieked above them. Erestor had purchased a small ship, knowing that the actual vessel meant little. They stood on the dock, still holding hands, eyes glistening with tears.

"I will come back for you," Glorfindel vowed, his voice firm even as the first tear left his eye. "Even if I have to do battle with the Valar themselves, I _will_ come for you." The golden head dipped, and the yellow silk of Glorfindel's hair mingled with the dark satin of Erestor. A single kiss, deep and true, sealed Glorfindel's promise. When they parted, Glorfindel took Erestor's hand and placed a ring upon it. "I am Glorfindel of Gondolin, Chief of the House of the Golden Flower and lover of Erestor, Chief of the House of Elrond, and I pledge my fidelity, my love, and my heart to you. Even when the sea sunders us."

Erestor swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled a shimmering string from his pocket. He fastened the locket about Glorfindel's neck, and whispered his own words. "I am Erestor of Tirion, Chief of the House of Elrond and lover of Glorfindel of Gondolin, and I pledge my love, my heart, and my soul to you. Carry with you this small bit of me, to always know I am close, even when you cannot see me," he finished raggedly, embracing Glorfindel tightly. "I love you."

"I love you," the golden Elf whispered.

They parted again, and Erestor watched in despair as Glorfindel boarded the small boat. His dark eyes never left the golden figure until he was no more than a speck on the horizon. When he was certain Glorfindel could no longer see or hear him, Erestor crumpled to the rough dock and let a tortured, anguished scream erupt from his throat.

His light was gone. 

*****

_Malaga, Spain, Winter of 1700_

Maglor opened the door to his home and gasped. Erestor, who he had not seen for six centuries, stood on his doorstep. His old lover's eyes were dull and he was clad in all black. Erestor looked like death: pale, dark, and lost.

What Maglor noticed was that the younger Elf was not accompanied by his ever-present golden counterpart.

"Come inside, Erestor," he said softly, moving aside to let his heartbroken companion inside. Erestor walked by him in a daze, acknowledging nothing as he entered the heated home. Maglor gazed outside, scanning the estate as far as he could, hoping Glorfindel was merely lagging behind. When he did not see the blond head, nor sense the pure light of the Elda, he realized what he had feared had finally come to pass.

Glorfindel had passed from their world.

TBC...

Elvish/English:  
melethen : my love


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

_Seattle, Washington, 2004_

"Why did you never speak of this, Erestor?" Maglor asked as Erestor finished his tale. He gazed at Erestor's long fingers, stroking the palm of his lover's hand with his thumb. "Why did you carry this sorrow alone?"

Erestor chuckled mirthlessly. "You could not ease my heart, Maglor. By not telling you, I was able to just... forget it. Never speak of him, never think of him..." he trailed off.

Maglor looked at both of Erestor's hands and his brow furrowed. "I do not remember you ever wearing a band. Where is it?"

"I took it off before I reached Spain," the younger Elf said simply.

"Where is it now?"

Erestor's dark eyes swept to the small jewelry box on their dresser. Maglor released Erestor hands and slowly walked to the mahogany box. He opened it and shifted some of the items around; his eyes became wide when he found what he was seeking. Maglor lifted the heavy mithril ring from the velvet box and brought it to the bed. He turned the intricate ring over in his hands, amazed at the detail and craftsmanship shown in the small band.

"It was all that he had left of Gondolin," Erestor said quietly. "He said that Rog, Lord of the House of the Hammer of Wrath, had it crafted as a gift for the bright Chief Glorfindel. Ecthelion had one similar, encrusted with glittering diamonds."

The band shimmered with topaz, diamond and emerald, creating a domed golden glower surrounded by green leaves. It was beautiful. "Why do you not wear it?" Maglor asked.

Erestor brought his stormy eyes level with Maglor's. "How could I? A daily reminder of what I lost."

"No! It is a daily reminder of what you had. Something so precious and sacred; do not let it go because there is pain associated with it." Maglor took Erestor's left hand and slid the band onto the ring finger. "Though it is not our custom to wear such things upon this finger, I believe this century demands a slight change in our ways. Wear it, Erestor. Think of him. He loved you; how could you wish to forget that?"

The librarian looked at his hand, adorned once again with Glorfindel's mark. Glorfindel. He had not spoken the name in over three hundred years. Maglor tenderly cupped Erestor's cheek and brought their lips together in a sweet, loving kiss. Erestor opened his mouth, inviting Maglor to deepen the kiss, which the elder Noldo happily did.

They shed their clothing, their touches light and hesitant. Though Maglor had taken Erestor to bed thousands of times, this time felt much different.

Maglor knew it was not him Erestor saw, thought of as his body was breached and filled. Though Erestor clung to him, cried out and writhed under his hands, Maglor knew it was a golden ghost Erestor saw behind his closed eyes. He took Erestor carefully, gently, nipping and suckling at lips, chin, neck, shoulders. Maglor did not speak, just gazed at the dark beauty he had bound to him in darkness.

He pressed their bodies close, his belly offering Erestor the necessary friction to slowly move toward his completion. Maglor brushed his lips over the high, proud cheekbones and lightly kissed the tip of Erestor's nose. He rarely watched Erestor closely when the coupled. Their trysts were typically hard, fast, furious and rolling in the euphoria of their feeding. To not have a mortal's lust roiling in their blood, spurring them on, was a rarity and Maglor gazed lovingly down at his bed partner.

That Glorfindel had loved Erestor for so long was of no surprise to Maglor. That Erestor had been determined to put that love from his mind had been. Maglor thrust deeply, groaning as Erestor arched beneath him, the younger vampire's muscles fluttering around his length. "Bright and shining, gold and sapphires," Maglor murmured against Erestor's temple. "Your light, his darkness."

Erestor whimpered. "Do not speak of him."

"Come with his name on your lips, Erestor," Maglor encouraged, lapping at Erestor's lips.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Erestor shook his head, his chin trembling.

"If you do not, I will stop, Erestor. I will leave you like this. I know your thoughts turn to him now, to the memory of his girth within you, not mine. Call his name." Maglor pumped inside the confines of Erestor's body with more force, lying heavily above his lover. The younger Noldo's erection pressed hotly into Maglor's belly and he felt it swell further. "His name."

Erestor arced sharply, his lips parting as he spilled his seed between their bodies. "Glorfindel!" he cried out, the name a raw and bleeding wound upon Erestor's soul.

Maglor groaned and buried himself to the hilt, his own orgasm shuddering through him. He held Erestor tight to him as the Elf cried, centuries of mourning rushing in and swallowing Erestor completely in sorrowful memory.

The sun was low in the sky and the room was bathed in reds and oranges when Erestor finally raised his swollen eyes from Maglor's shoulder. "I have never asked. Was there a great love in your life, melethen?" he inquired softly, running the pad of his thumb over Maglor's full lower lip.

The grey eyes closed for a moment, hiding the pain briefly from Erestor's keen gaze. When he opened them again, Erestor was still watching him. He answered honestly. "Aye. I had a great love."

"Did he love you?"

"Aye, he did. And I him. Deeply and completely we loved one another," Maglor said sadly.

Erestor nuzzled Maglor's neck, cuddling closer to the broad body. "What happened?"

Maglor was silent for long moments and Erestor thought he would not answer. "What had to happen. His destiny was separate from mine and we parted ways long ago, before the earth changed."

In the late afternoon sunlight, bound together in grief, they held each other, lost in their memories.

*****

David sipped his tea, his eyes scanning the small, cozy room. His father, Graham Selman, stood near the open sliding glass door leading out to a patio, drinking his beer and staring at his son. The other three men in the room watched him just as closely.

Terry, his uncle, sat in an easy chair, his brown eyes dark and hard as he regarded his nephew. His uncle had never been fond of him; he had even thought Graham was insane when he brought David to his first meeting. But, David was smart, and he proved himself time and time again to the group. He had even gone so far as to receive his Masters in History, studying any and all areas of the world. His skills were now invaluable, but Terry would never admit such a thing.

On the small loveseat sat Michael and Eric. Michael was a fifty-year-old businessman; he was powerful, influential, and his money backed their little 'organization'. Eric was his smartass son, barely twenty-two, who was afforded more respect and consideration than David was -- and David was seven years older than Eric. They had known each other from a very early age, but they had never been, and would never be, friends.

"I can only see one course of action," Terry finally said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "David has to leave Seattle. Now that they know of him, have tasted him, he cannot continue to observe them. He will give us away."

David gazed at him in shock. "Leave Seattle?" he asked, looking to his father who was nodding.

Graham finished his beer and tossed it into the trashcan. "You can't stay here, son. I mean, what good is an observer who can't observe? No, you should go to Spokane and stay with your Mom until they move on."

"Dad! I am not going to pack up and move in with Mom. I have a job, an apartment, friends... I am not going to be shuffled off to Spokane because I happened to make contact with them," David insisted.

Michael cleared his throat and sat forward a bit in his seat. "David, it is not wise to remain here. They know where you live--"

"Yes! They do. And I know where they live. Hell, we know every move they have made over the past one-hundred and fifty years! And we know that because _I_ found out. Not your money, Michael; not your connections, Dad; and not your family histories, Terry. We know what we know because I searched, I scoured, and I spent endless years finding their trail." David stood and glared at his father. "I will not be sent away because I dared what none of you would."

Eric scoffed. "As if you did something amazing. You walked into a gay club, David. You let them seduce you and then bite you. What is so noble about that?"

"David," Graham began, eyeing his son suspiciously. "Why did you seek them out, and what exactly happened?"

He knew his face was flushed, and he would not meet anyone's gaze. "I wanted more than logical observation," David said hesitantly. "I want to know them; I want to know what they have seen and experienced. So, naturally, I went to Marcus' club. Vincent hit on me; I invited them back to the loft and..." he trailed off. He could not finish his statement. No one knew he was gay, and this was not the venue to announce it.

"And what?" Eric prompted viciously.

"Yes, what, David," his father urged, though David could see the cloud that had passed over Graham's face. His father had a pretty good idea.

David swallowed visibly. "We had sex," he said simply.

Terry choked on his drink. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"Actually, I did," David admitted, finally meeting his father's eyes. "They weren't my first, if that's what you are wondering," he said softly.

Graham cleared his throat. "You will go to Spokane, David," he said calmly. "You will not argue with me, and we will discuss this later."

"No, Dad. We will not discuss this later. There is nothing to discuss. I am gay, and I will not move from Seattle," David said firmly.

"Do not disobey me," Graham said in a low voice.

David lifted his chin defiantly. "I am twenty-nine, Dad. You can't just order me about. I have done your dirty work, and I find them fascinating. I will see them again, and I will learn whatever they are willing to teach."

Michael stood. "If you do not agree to move to Spokane, you will no longer be welcome in this circle."

"As if I ever was," David said bitterly. He walked to the door. "I am keeping my research, and I will be moving. Don't try to find me. Hell," he sneered, "I doubt the four of you could find an elephant in a bookstore. What am I worried about?"

David slammed the door and quickly made it to his car. He sat in the plush interior, his mind whirling. No longer would his every move be dictated by the group; he was now free to pursue Marcus and Vincent to his heart's content.

He smiled to himself as he started the car, backing out of the driveway and heading toward the loft. His heart raced in his chest and he fidgeted as he drove. The sun would not set for hours yet, but David was eager for night to come.

Tonight, he would visit Melindor again.

TBC...


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

David sat at the bar, sipping his drink, and scanning the crowd. He had come to Melindor every night for the past week, trying to catch Marcus' attention. The dark singer had not spent much time after his sets carousing the floor as he usually did, and David thought the handsome man seemed restless. His hazel eyes followed Marcus' figure as he wove through the crowd, wrapping an arm possessively around the slighter frame of Vincent, who had just entered the club.

His heart sped up as he saw the two men kiss softly in the shadows, oblivious to all those around them. David had not seen Vincent in the club, so he hoped this was a good sign. He wanted to speak with them, touch them, be touched _by_ them. David kicked back the rest of his drink, declining another, intent upon the couple in the dark corner.

*****

"He is here again," Maglor said quietly. "Every night he arrives when we open and leaves with the last of them. He watches."

Erestor reached out, brushing the mortal's thoughts. His brow creased and he looked to Maglor. "He seeks us."

"Aye." Maglor leaned in close, brushing his lips along Erestor's ear, reveling in the shiver it sent through his lover. "I must return to the stage. Be careful of him."

They kissed once more before Maglor took the stage again and Erestor mingled. He spoke with several of the employees, made small talk with some of the regular patrons, his eyes always flickering to David. The sandy-haired Man still sat perched on his stool, his eyes focused on Maglor's sensually writhing form on the raised platform. Erestor took a moment to admire his lover's movements, growing aroused as they sparked memories of those types of movements in a much different position.

He looked away, leaning against the bar and ordering a drink, ignoring David's presence several barstools down. When the bartender handed him his drink, Erestor made his way along the bar, purposefully passing by David. As he walked by, though, he heard the Man speak -- far too low for any to hear *but* him.

"I remember."

Erestor continued to walk, as if he had not heard the Man. He calmly entered the dressing area next to the stage and waited patiently for Maglor to come to him. He sipped his Bloody Mary, but the amusement of such an apropos drink was suddenly gone. If David remembered their night together, then he knew what he and Maglor truly were. That meant they were compromised and would soon be forced to relocate yet again.

The alternatives were unthinkable.

It didn't take long for the music to end, the applause to sound, and Maglor to stroll into the dressing room. He looked at Erestor's stern expression, the half-finished drink and then sighed. "All right. What happened?"

"He remembers," Erestor said simply, playing with the celery stalk in his drink. Maglor lifted an eyebrow as he stripped out of the mesh shirt and leather pants, revealing his nude form. "You know, you should wear something under those if you ever desire to sire children," Erestor quipped.

Maglor snorted, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts. "I do not believe I need to worry about siring children, Erestor. No matter what it said in that story between you and I that you found..." he said, crossing his arms and winking at his lover.

Erestor shook his head. "I told Justyn to show David back here. We need to talk with him. Find out just what he thinks he remembers."

"Ever the practical one," Maglor said, slipping his arms into the silk button down shirt. "Do I have time to actually get dressed?" He received an answer to the question as a knock sounded. "I suppose not," he mumbled. "Come in!" he called, turning his back to the door and buttoning the bottom three buttons of his shirt.

David entered the room, jumping slightly when the door closed.

"Welcome, David," Erestor said softly, crossing his legs and reclining in his chair.

"Yes, David, please," Maglor purred, gesturing toward the couch.

David sat slowly, not leaning back. "I'm surprised you brought me back here."

"Why shouldn't we?" Maglor asked. "We had an enjoyable evening together, did we not?"

"You... bit me. Both of you."

"Ah, yes. Well, we do tend to get a little carried away. I hope we didn't hurt you." Maglor's voice was low and sensual, carrying as much influence as he could mange.

David blinked, forcing himself to look at Erestor instead of meeting Maglor's eyes. "And drinking my blood? Was that 'getting carried away', too?"

Erestor narrowed his eyes and sat forward, extending his senses into David's mind as deep as he dared. Not only did he find evidence of the intact memory of that night -- which he would have thought impossible, but he also had the bizarre feeling that he was being watched, as though David were aware of his presence -- another impossibility.

"Blood?" Maglor inquired with surprise in his voice. "You're joking with us now, surely! Do you hear this, Vincent? Blood! Really, David, do you know how you --" He broke off suddenly, catching the glare from Erestor. The younger Noldo's thoughts rang in his mind, and Maglor swallowed, looking at David with a revised appraisal.

David seemed to sense the unspoken discourse. "Cards on the table?" he asked innocently.

Erestor ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "As you suspect, Marcus and I are what your society would call vampires, although our name for it predates your language."

David's eyes widened at that. "Exactly how old _are_ you?"

Maglor cleared his throat. "No secrets? Very well then. My grandfather was the first sentient being to awake on this planet. Think on that one a little while."

He did. Then David's eyes rolled back into his head, and the Man slumped back against the couch, clearly unconscious.

Erestor leapt across the room with a yelp and pressed his fingers against David's throat. "Dammit, Maglor, he's out cold!"

"Pity," Maglor sniffed. "I was hoping the shock would kill him. It would have simplified things."

Erestor rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless. Come on, help me get him to the car."

*****

When David opened his eyes, the room was dark. He was also in a bed, which he was certain was not where he had been. The Man sat up and looked around. The room was not large, but not small. The bed took up most of the space, joined only by a tall bureau and overstuffed chair. There were several windows, open to the night breeze.

David hadn't the first clue where he was.

"Welcome back." The sultry voice was to his right and he slowly turned to face his captor. Erestor stood in the bathroom doorway, steam rolling out into the gloomy room. The vampire was dressed in only loose silk pajama bottoms, drying his hair with a towel. "We wondered how long it would take you to wake."

David's eyes followed Erestor, and his cock responded to the slender, pale body still damp from the shower. He flushed and put his hands in his lap, bunching the sheets up slightly, hoping to hide his arousal. A chuckle made him look up guiltily.

Erestor had crossed the room so silently, and swiftly, that he now towered over the seated human. "You may try to cover yourself, young David, but the scent of your arousal, the faster heartbeat and your elevated breathing give you away." He bent down, cupping David's cheek. "You are quite beautiful, if not bothersome."

"Vincent." Maglor's voice was sharp and cold as he watched his lover taunt the Man.

David was certain Erestor pouted as he backed away, seating himself in the chair by the windows. "You have found us out. I am not sure how," the younger vampire said, his dark eyes focused on David, "But, you have. Now, what is it you want from us?"

"What do I want from you?" he asked, still a little groggy.

Maglor walked to Erestor's side, placing his hand on the bare shoulder. "Yes. I don't think you have come to the club every night for the past week to simply enjoy the music. You are here because you wanted us to know you knew our secret. Now, what is it you want from us?"

The Man looked at his hands. Though he had come to the club looking for them, to confront them, he had not fully thought of what he wanted from them. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Nothing more than to know you. You have lived a very long time. You must have seen much. I am a historian by trade, and it is my passion. I would ask that you let me know your lives."

"That is a very large request, David," Erestor said quietly. "And all you want are the stories we have to offer? So you can write them up in a book and expose us? Making our lives *much* more difficult than need be?"

David moved without thinking, crawling towards the two dark vampires across the bed. "No! Just... tell me. That is all I want." He rested before them, clad in only his under shorts, kneeling with his hands clasped before him.

Erestor stood and sat on the bed, leaning in close to David. His hot breath tickled the tiny hairs on David's neck, and Erestor ran his finger over the tiny scars his bite had left. "And what of what we want?" he asked in a low voice. "I admit, you were sweeter than most we have had, David."

"You would ask me to give that in exchange for your stories? Is my silence not enough?" David heard the tremor in his own voice and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

Maglor watched the two, his own hunger rising as he gazed at Erestor. "You were not so reluctant the last time you lay with us."

Erestor's tongue snaked out to lap at David's neck, and was pleased when the Man trembled. "You are still weak, young one. Remain abed. Sleep. In the morning, we shall discuss the details of our arrangement."

David looked from Erestor to Maglor. "How do I know you will be here when I wake? More importantly, how do I know I _will_ wake?"

"You don't," Maglor said, glaring at the Man.

Erestor nipped lightly at David's throat. "Ignore him. You shall wake, dear David. And we shall be here."

The Man allowed Erestor to move him back to the head of the bed, drawing the covers up over his chilled body. Erestor seemed to hesitate a moment, making some decision, and then bent down, kissing David softly on his lips.

"Come, Vincent," Maglor demanded, taking Erestor's wrist. "Let your pet rest."

David's eyes followed the figures out of the room, his heart hammering as the door closed. He turned over, cuddling down in the sheets, his lips still burning from Vincent's kiss. As he fell into a fitful sleep, he knew his mind was made up.

To learn their stories, he would do anything.

Anything.

TBC... 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Erestor closed the door, walking softly across the plush carpet to the sofa where his lover sat.

"You will wake him if you keep looking in on him, Erestor," Maglor warned. The horizon was pale as dawn greeted them, and they had still not come to an agreement.

The younger vampire folded himself elegantly on the couch. He picked up his glass of wine and sipped it thoughtfully. "We cannot simply kill him, Maglor."

Maglor snorted. "Because you are taken with him."

"Of course not. And it wouldn't matter if I were. My feelings have nothing to do with this." Erestor paced nervously, resisting the urge to look in on David again.

"Then what does?"

"Maglor, we have not taken a human life for decades!"

"And I say that we are overdue!" the elder Noldo hissed. "Erestor, he knows! He cannot leave this place alive. It will compromise us." His voice softened, and he smiled indulgently at his lover. "If you will not allow him to die, then we will simply have to relocate. And I know how eager you are to move and reestablish ourselves."

"No, I do not want to move, but I also don't want him dead! That is not how we do things, Maglor," Erestor insisted.

"Don't we, dearest? Come now, do not tell me you have forgotten our dear Antonia Doria!"

"As though I could," the younger vampire spat. "She continues to haunt my dreams to this day."

"But, that is precisely my point. What is one more added the massive body count our years have accumulated?" Maglor leaned close to Erestor and smiled. "You are so fond of him; you can do it. I know you can also make it very pleasant for him to find his end."

Erestor shook his head again. "No. There is something very familiar about him, about his mind and his spirit."

"All the more reason," Maglor insisted. "We know that he can resist us; we know that he remembers when he should not. And now you say there is something more, something hidden? Be done with him, melethron!"

"I would rather not destroy him before we know all about him and what *he* is hiding."

Maglor reclined against the couch, finishing his brandy. "Very well. Then you know what has to be done. And since you are more proficient in this particular art, *you* can find that truth from him." Maglor's pewter eyes skewered Erestor. "But, if he is truly a threat, one of us will kill him. I don't care if you force me to sleep on the couch for a century, he will not add to our unhappiness. We have both taken more than our share of it already."

*****

Erestor climbed onto the bed, moving like the predator he was, carefully easing himself astride David's body. Maglor stood to the side, holding David's hands by the wrists, pinning the Man to the soft mattress.

"David," Erestor crooned, bringing his lips close to David's ear. "Time for you to wake."

The young Man's eyes shot open and he yelped, instinctively struggling against the weight across his hips and the vise-like grip on his wrists. The panic was visible in the hazel eyes as they darted from the pewter gaze to ink-black one. "What?" he asked sleepily.

"If we are to do this," Erestor said, firmly placing his hands on either side of David's face, "then we shall do it on even playing ground. You know too much about us," he continued, leaning close to David. "It is only fair that we should know more of you." Erestor focused his gaze on David's eyes and "pushed" with all his power into the Man's mind. This sort of blatant intrusion was as distasteful to him as it was uncomfortable, but David had already proven resistant to their casual powers, and no lesser strategy would give them answers they could trust.

To David, the vampire's face seemed to swell until it filled his field of vision. The only sound he could hear was Vincent's steady breathing, and a droning hum that he realized was his own voice.

Erestor strained to break through David's considerable mental defenses. His muscles tensed after a minute, and after two, beads of sweat appeared on his exposed skin. His eyes were clenched so tightly closed that Maglor began to fear for his lover's safety. Erestor fought for every inch of ground into David's mind, adamant about discovering the truth behind this unique individual. Any other person's mind would have laid its innermost secrets bare within three minutes. It took Erestor five full minutes to finally begin drawing useful information from *this* mind.

He heard fragments of an argument between David and other men over his night with 'Vincent' and 'Marcus'. He saw images of news clippings and photographs carefully preserved as a record of his own travels. He felt past intrusions into David's mind -- training sessions to hone David's abilities to counter the vampires' powers. More fragments and shards of memory began to form a more complete picture of a Man who had been trained from boyhood to observe and record Erestor's and Maglor's actions and movements. David did not know their true names, thank Eru, and it seemed none of the others in this hazy group did either.

Erestor was beginning to withdraw from David's mind when a ghost of a face flickered across his senses. The shock of it jostled Erestor's concentration, and he recoiled from the mental connection all at once. The force threw him across the room with a shout. That face... impossible! How the _fuck_  could these bumbling mortals have possibly made that connection?

Erestor staggered to his feet, clutching his head. The backlash from the sudden withdrawal assaulted him from all sides. He felt nauseous; waves of hot and cold took turns washing over him. His throat felt dry, his tongue swollen. He croaked out in a raspy voice, "Kill him."

"What?" Maglor asked, shocked.

"Kill him!" Erestor repeated, stronger as his body began finally to fight away the backlash. "He knows too much!"

Maglor hesitated, uncertain of what brought this sudden change over Erestor. He released his grip on David's wrists and began to walk across the room. He got as far as the edge of the bed when David's feet lashed out and caught Maglor in the kidneys, sending him staggering. David rolled off the bed on the other side from Maglor, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. His eyes were clear and bright, his movements solid and sure. He had recovered from his mental ordeal with a speed and efficiency that Erestor would have believed impossible. It was almost inconceivable that David would know how to destroy them, but so was everything else about this situation. All things considered, Erestor had to admit that David could pose to them a genuine threat. With that admission came the second admission that Erestor, in this state, would not be able to stand against him.

As the two squared off against each other, forming and reforming opinions about the other's abilities, David suddenly fell backward, landing heavily on the ground. Maglor followed through with his sweep into the back of David's knees, and rolled the rest of the way out from under the bed. He pounced on David's prone body like a panther, straddling the Man's hips and pressing his shoulders to the floor with iron hands.

"Wait!" Erestor called out as Maglor bared his fangs. He staggered forward, looking down into David's face. "Who are they, David? The others, who are they?"

Maglor did not relax his grip, but looked up at Erestor questioningly. "Others?"

Erestor nodded. "I saw them. Heard them. They've been watching us for at least a century. Who are they, David? Tell us now and I will make sure that my lover kills you quickly."

David squirmed uselessly under Maglor's grip. "It's true," he whined, the panic evident in his voice. "My family has been watching you for over one hundred and fifty years. I don't know how it started, I swear. I only know that I was brought up knowing about you, hearing the stories, and looking at the pictures. My father trained me to avoid detection, to overcome your abilities."

"Why?" Maglor growled. "Do you think you can destroy creatures such as us?"

"No!" David yelped. "We only observe! We watch and record! I don't even think we know why anymore. My uncle wants to be sure that you aren't influencing history in your favor. My father believes that it is so you will lead us to the others."

"And you?" Erestor asked, some of the life coming back into his voice. "What do you believe?"

David swallowed, then continued in a calmer voice. "I don't believe there _are_  others. I think you two are the only ones. I believe that yours must be a lonely life, but one filled with such wonders and stories that someone like me could only dream of. I believe that I am no longer content observing. I want to know these stories. I want you to tell them to me."

Maglor narrowed his eyes. "I don't trust him."

"What he says about the others is true," Erestor maintained. "We cannot simply kill him. It is likely they know where he is and will come for us."

"Okay, so we don't kill him. We just send him back to these others a piece at a time."

"No, please!" The fear returned to David's voice. "I beg you, listen! I have left them! I have cut my ties to them! I can tell you what I know! I can protect you from them!"

Maglor laughed deep in his throat. "More likely, you are protecting them from *us*! Make no mistake, boy. _We_  are the predators here, not your family."

"Let me tell you what I know. Let me help you! All I ask is that you share your stories with me in return."

"You presume to bargain with the wolves?" Maglor taunted.

"There is more," Erestor interrupted. "More that you and I should speak of in private."

Maglor heard the finality in Erestor's voice. Until they knew everything, harming David would be unwise. He sighed heavily and stood up, quickly moving out of striking distance, though he remained alert. He nodded to Erestor, indicating his agreement.

Erestor took David's hand and helped the Man to his feet. "Very well," he said, clearing the last of the uncertainty from his voice. "We'll exchange stories for now. But if anyone else comes near, I will take great pleasure in twisting your head off."

TBC...

Elvish/English:  
melethron : lover (m)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The historical notes David offers are, in fact, real. I did a lot of research into the history of this world so that there was a little more of that prod that this *our* world. So, all the war bits, the place bits -- all of that exists/existed or did transpire.

**Chapter Eight**

"I am the sixth generation of my family to watch you," David began later that morning. He paused to sip at the Irish coffee Erestor had prepared, licking the cream from his upper lip. The combination of the caffeine and alcohol helped to clear his head some, as he hoped it was doing for the two vampires. So many questions he had to ask, but they had insisted he answer theirs first.

"It started with my great-great-great-grandfather, Jonathan Selman. He was a newspaper reporter in New York. Early one evening, he was walking through the streets, hoping to find a story. The lamplighters were just starting their nightly duties, and most respectable members of society were in their homes, trapped in that limbo between the evening meal and the night's activities. He wrote in his journal that it was then that the most interesting stories played themselves out.

"He turned a corner and glanced down an alleyway between two buildings. He saw a couple locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace. He would have kept walking, he wrote later that night, but he noted that the woman's dress marked her as high society. That a woman of that class would be in an alley so far away from the bastions of... propriety and..." David thought for a moment, searching for the proper word. "And etiquette," he said finally "To see her with a man in such a situation smacked of scandal to my progenitor. He lurked in the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman's face and, with luck, the man's as well.

"The woman moaned in the embrace and seemed to swoon, slipping from her lover's arms. Jonathan leaned in and was horrified. Instead of the flushed cheeks of a secret tryst, the woman's face was deathly pale and her eyes stared, glassily, at nothing. He looked up at the man then, and saw bloodstained lips and sharpened fangs. Then a rush of wind knocked him back into the wall as the creature sped past with unthinkable speed."

Erestor glared at Maglor. "That was foolish of you."

"Me? What makes you so sure that it had to have been me?" the elder Noldo bristled.

"Because I have never taken killing as lightly as you, and I would never have left a body in an alleyway."

"On the contrary, Vincent," Maglor replied, careful not to use their true names. "I consider death to be a very serious subject and never trivialize it. As it happens--"

Erestor held up a hand. "Another time and place, Marcus," he said curtly. "David, please continue."

David watched the ease with which the vampires discussed killing. There was something surreal about the exchange, something so unconsciously absurd about a lovers' quarrel over the importance of the death of innocents. He was so engrossed that he almost did not hear Vincent's entreaty for him to continue his tale. He shook his head quickly and forced his attention back to the moment.

"My great-great-great-grandfather had grown up in a small town near Gloucestershire, England," he continued. "He was raised on the Christian Bible and English folklore, so he learned how to be both God-fearing and superstitious. In other words, he knew a vampire when he saw one. He also knew that no respectable newspaper would print such a story, and how dangerous it would be for him should he sell it to the disreputable ones. Instead, he recounted the story in his personal journal only.

"In the weeks and months that followed, he used his journalism credentials to make discreet inquiries about the man he had seen. He identified the man as Mitchell Devereaux, and includes a sketch that, I'm sorry, Marcus, looks just like you."

Maglor shrugged. "I never denied that it was me that your thrice-great-grandfather saw. I was merely trying to point out that the young woman's death was not as trivial to me as my dear Vincent would like to have you believe. I take it that this journal contains no information on the fate of her remains?"

David cleared his throat nervously. "It does say that she was never identified and no missing person reported to the police that matched her description. Her body was never claimed, so she was interred in a mass grave, and the matter was forgotten."

"So it should have been. The poor woman had lost her husband and children in a fire some years earlier and was reduced to selling her body in the street just to earn enough for a rat-infested room and one meager meal a day. Her eyes begged for release, and I granted her wish. I bought her that beautiful dress, treated her to an enormous feast and a night at the theatre. I made her last night a wonderful experience, so that she might die with that simple happiness as her last memory."

David listened with morbid fascination. The gothic tragedy of the story spoke to him of an almost erotic sensuality for life and only intensified his curiosity for these unnatural creatures. He was aware of the way his lips had parted and his breathing had sped while Marcus recounted the tale. He knew the plain facts of the incident from his ancestor's journal, but to hear the particulars explained in such detail and with such fondness was an enthralling experience.

"If we could move along?" Erestor asked.

"By all means," Maglor replied sardonically. He knew how uncomfortable the subject of death was to Erestor, but could not help indulging in the memories from time to time.

David finished the last of his coffee with a grimace, as the liquid had grown cold. "Jonathan continued to keep a careful record of anything relating to Mitchell Devereaux or his mysterious and reclusive friend Virgil. He had several theories regarding where you two might have come from. By far, though, his favorite was that the two of you had been soldiers in the Union army, and shared what he called 'a carnal friendship of Sodom's ilk'. He decided that you both must have been killed in battle and that you were condemned to live soulless existences as a result of your sins."

"Actually, only Vincent was in the Union army," Maglor interjected. "I fought for the Confederacy."

"And I took great pleasure in saying 'I told you so' for the next seventy years," Erestor replied with the first trace of a real grin.

Maglor rolled his eyes. "Suffice it to say, dear David, that you have since learned that we predate that little skirmish by several orders of magnitude. Please continue."

"The turn of the century came, and with it, the birth of my great-great-grandfather, Jacob," the Man continued. "The last journal entry that my great-great-great-grandfather ever wrote was that Mitchell and Virgil boarded a ship bound for Europe in 1902. He hid the journal away in his attic, probably intending to retrieve it should you two ever return. He died in 1908, though, and the journal was simply forgotten.

"It wasn't until the house burned down in 1924 that it was discovered. My great-great-grandfather, already a father himself, was picking through the ashes and happened to find the journal lying in the ruins, a little singed on the edge, but otherwise completely unharmed. After reading through it, he became convinced that God had spared the book and led him to it because he was to continue his father's work. He believed God was charging him with the task of keeping watch over these two demons and ultimately destroying them if they threatened decent society.

"It took him years to track you down, because you were obviously using different names by then. He was certain that you must have come back to America, because he believed his father's Civil War theory and felt that you would always be drawn to return here as a result. He spent a lot of time visiting old battle sites and graveyards, his wife and child in tow, thinking that you might be living nearby. The strain of all the moving was too much on my great-great-grandmother, and she caught pneumonia one winter and died before the next spring. Jacob saw her death as a test from God to see if he would abandon the quest. Instead, he redoubled his efforts to find you, moving more easily and under rougher conditions now that he did not have the 'delicate sensibilities' of a woman slowing him down.

"All the same, it must have been pure luck that you two had settled near Richmond in the late 30's and that he happened to spot you, still identical to the sketches his father left in the journal. Once he found you, though, it was easy to keep watch over you, especially with a fifteen-year-old son to help. My great-grandfather was raised on that journal, always knowing of the creatures that prowled the darkness and his family's holy quest to keep vigil over them. He got a job as a newsie, selling newspapers on the street corner near where you two lived."

Erestor interrupted suddenly. "I remember that young man! We must have bought papers from him a thousand times! Damn! And I tipped him well!"

"I told you that you should have killed him. I never trusted him after he called out that headline 'Blood-Sucking Monsters on the Loose' and it turned out to be a story about the abnormally high mosquito levels that season," Maglor added with a grimace.

"You were just sore because he suckered you with that bet about your shoes."

David cocked his head. "This wasn't in the journal. What bet?"

Maglor started to speak, but Erestor cut him off. "I wouldn't expect it to be written down. It's an old gag. Your great-grandfather, William Selman -- the other boys called him Billy the Sell-Man -- was selling a paper to Marcus one day and said to him, 'I bet you a dollar that I know where you got them shoes.' Marcus shrugged and agreed. Billy looked down and studied the shoes for a moment, then announced proudly, 'You got the right shoe on the right foot and the left shoe on the left foot. Gimme a dollar, chump!'"

David burst into laughter, quickly covering his mouth with his hand when Maglor shot him a glance that could have melted steel. "He cheated," the ancient Noldo said sharply.

"No, you just didn't listen," Erestor scolded. "And it's not as though you couldn't spare the dollar."

"A dollar was a lot of money back then!"

"And we should know because we had so many of them!" Erestor turned back to David and explained in an offhand manner, "We collected the rather hefty life insurance policies on ourselves following our deaths on the Titanic. We never trusted the stock market or banks, so all of our funds stayed in hard currency, untouched by the Depression."

Maglor nodded. "Then the Japanese hit Pearl Harbor, and we converted the bulk of it into War Bonds and returned to military service. With our considerable mental influence, we were able to contrive a past of some note and secure ourselves officer postings fairly quickly."

"Yes," David added, "the journals did talk about how you two left for the war. My great-grandfather had just turned eighteen, and he enlisted as well -- partly from a sense of duty, but mostly under pressure from his father to follow the two of you. Of course, he had to go the long way through the enlistment process, and from his correspondence, he never managed to catch up to the two of you again."

Maglor visibly winced. "That's not entirely true. We did see William Selman once more. Early November 1942, General Patton led the Western Task Force in the North African invasion. They called it Operation Torch; the hope was for the Allied forces to gain a foothold in Africa and form a second front from which to attack Hitler. Most of the assault force, including your great-grandfather, were fresh out of training, untried in combat. The expectation was that the French forces in Casablanca would not fight, so the resistance would be minimal."

"The expectations were wrong," Erestor said with a sigh. "At least initially. At Port Lyautey, the French put up a hell of a fight, and there were a lot of casualties on both sides. Billy was shot in the back while he crouched between two buildings. The bullet pierced his spine, and he was left paralyzed and bleeding to death. By the time we found him the next day, he was already dead."

There was a solemn pause, and then David continued. "William married his sweetheart before he left, a fellow newsie named Lillian Birch. They had almost a week together until he was shipped off to boot camp, and Lillian turned up pregnant shortly thereafter. His son was born in September 1942, and William insisted on naming him Abraham, after Abraham van Helsing. After William's death, Lillian collected the death benefits from the Army, and promptly married William's father, Jacob. The two of them raised Abraham as their own, teaching him about his family history and the 'Holy Quest' that was his birthright.

"While you were in Europe, Jacob spent the time researching vampiric lore from any source he could find, and drew several diagrams in the journals detailing how he thought you could be killed. He always suspected that the two of you had killed William when you found him following you. When the official cause of William's death was listed as exsanguination, Jacob became convinced and decided, quest or no quest, that you had to be destroyed.

"Of course, he never got the chance to try. He died of a heart attack in 1961, two years after the birth of Abraham's son -- my father -- Graham, and three weeks before the birth of my uncle Terry. When the journals passed to Abraham, he learned for the first time that Jacob was not his father, but his grandfather. The shock of learning about his true father was enough to cool the burning hatred that Jacob had instilled in him, and Abraham rededicated himself to pure observation. He and his sons spent years researching and tracking down the smallest reference that could be linked back to the two of you, trying to put together a coherent picture of your travels and your lives.

"It was to that project that I eventually added my talents as I grew up. I majored in History, and even went to graduate school to better understand the intricate threads of events and how the two of you were woven into it. You showed up in America again in the '70's, and by then, information gathering had reached a point where it was much easier to track you down. Well, that and your stubborn and inexplicable adherence to keeping the same initials through every name change.

"When my grandfather died eight years ago, the responsibility of keeping up with what was by now a library filled with newspaper clippings, old photographs, every book on vampiric lore ever written, and those original journals, passed to my father and uncle, and would have been given to me until I stormed out and turned my backs on them."

The three sat in silence for a long moment, as Erestor and Maglor thought on the extensive story and the covert observation that had existed right under their noses for so long.

"You broke the rules," Erestor stated simply. "Why?"

David shrugged. "I told you. I wanted more than simple observation. I was the one who compiled the full picture of your history, and I knew that you were not what everyone thought you were. I could feel the story behind the facts, even if I didn't know all the details. I think it helped that I discovered my homosexuality in college. I think it helped me to understand you better, or at least, more than everyone else in my family. I hoped that if I could meet you and get to know you, that I could learn enough to prove that you were not monsters and that this whole silly idea of a quest had to end."

Maglor seemed to growl low in the back of his throat. "I know a way to end it."

Erestor put a hand on Maglor's arm. "Down, boy. I want to know more about this library first, and about what you truly think you know about us."

"No way," David said, shaking his head. "We had a deal, remember? It's your turn now to be the storyteller."

Maglor glared, but Erestor smiled, surprised yet again by this Man's tenacity. "Very well, David. What would you like to know?"

David reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of yellowed parchment. He unfolded it and showed the old Wanted poster to the two vampires. "I want to know about Victor Logan and his 'unspeakable crimes.'"

Maglor burst out laughing. "It's your poster, so it's your story," the elder Noldo chided.

Erestor's face fell.

TBC...


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

_Van Buren County, Missouri, 1843_

This was Maglor's fault, Erestor thought, his mood continuing to darken the more his thought of the predicament he found himself in.

Erestor stared out of the dingy window into the street below. He was beginning to truly hate America. The Noldo longed for the cool summers of Europe and the gentle refinery of the upper classes. Maglor had wanted to see America, so they had come. Now all Erestor wanted was to board a steam ship east again. But, no, he had to hide.

And hide he did.

He had been running from the sheriff for a month now. The other day, while in the general store, he had seen that the damned Sheriff had issued a 'Wanted' poster for him! 'Dead or Alive' and a bounty of $100 on his head made him someone the locals wanted to find. Erestor, though, did not want to be found. He sighed and scanned the crowd in the busy evening streets and, for the thousandth time, prayed to the Valar to let him make the six o'clock train out of Missouri.

Erestor stood and looked about the small room one last time. He did not have luggage; he carried only cash for his trip. The vampire would be happy to leave the trials of the western life behind. He left his room and started down the stairs, his heart racing. He stopped just before he reached the bottom, his dark eyes widening as he gazed over the figures milling about the lobby of the hotel.

One of the men, an elder gentleman Erestor recognized as the lackey of the Mayor of Kansas City, turned his head to the stairs. Their eyes met; the man's lips curved into a cruel smile. Erestor turned and sped back up the stairs, the shouts of the men and their footfalls on the floor ringing in his ears. He had to get out. His eyes, wild as a corner animal's, sought an exit. The only thing on the second floor for an escape was a window. And no ladder.

Erestor took a deep breath and lifted the window open, sticking his head out to scan the ground below his perch. The sun was setting and the folks who usually walked below the establishment were having their evening meals. The street was clear -- no one would see him -- and so Erestor climbed out the window and jumped. He landed soundlessly, his muscles easily absorbing the shock of his fall.

"Logan!"

The shout was rough and angry; Erestor lifted his head and saluted the man. He turned and ran off, not thinking of where he was running to, just that he needed to be as far away from those men as was possible. As he ran, Erestor pulled out his pocket watch. "Dammit!" he growled, glaring at the clock face. It was almost six -- he would miss his train.

"Logan! Stop!"

Erestor bit back his annoyance. Would these humans ever stop? He continued to run, determined to elude his hunters. There was a sharp sound behind him, something that made his ears ring, and then he was on the ground. His knee throbbed from the bullet that had pierced him from behind. Damn this race and their weapons! He glared up at the man who still held the instrument of his capture.

"Ya ain't gettin' away 'rom us this time, Logan," the Mayor's lackey said.

The vampire laughed. "I'll disappear before we ever return to Kansas City, Zack." He could already feel his body repairing the torn muscle, cartilage, and ligaments.

Zack smiled evilly. "I don' think we'll hav' ta worry 'bout that, Logan. You're never gonna make it back ta Kansas City. Mayor's happy to have ya hang here."

Well, what had he expected? His 'crimes' were punishable without even a trial, though he was entitled to one. Erestor did not put up much of a struggle when the other men arrived, tying his arms behind him and forcing him to march to the Sheriff's station. He needed to feed for his knee to heal enough for him to run again, but with so many people around, it was an impossible task.

He was trapped.

*****

Erestor rested against the cold cell wall, watching as the stars began to light the night sky. Once again, he reminded himself that his current predicament was all Maglor's fault. That Elf would be the undoing of him, he just knew it. Erestor could hear the low din of a crowd, which came closer and closer. So, it was time. The Mayor, who was safe in his warm bed in Kansas City, would have his revenge. The Noldo sighed and stood, wincing in pain when he put pressure on his left knee.

Zack appeared at his cell door. "Ya ready, Logan? The crowd's waitin' on ya... See, they don' like yer kind here."

"I doubt they like much of any kind here, Zack," Erestor snapped, crossing his arms. "Do I not get a trial?"

"No, don' think so. Mayor was very specific in 'is demand. Victor Logan was not to leave this city alive. And ya won' be. It's been weeks since this town has had a hangin'!" Zack's eyes were wild with anticipation, and all Erestor wanted to do was reach through the bars of his tiny cell and strangle the man.

Instead, he smiled. "Then hadn't we best give the crowd what they want?" If he was to be lynched then so be it, but he was not going to give this pathetic excuse for life the pleasure of seeing him panic. Erestor turned around, offering his clasped hands to his warden. Zack quickly and securely tied Erestor's hands and then opened the cell door.

Zack tugged at the sleeve of Erestor's shirt. "C'mon. Don' wanna keep yer public waitin'."

Erestor was led from the small building and into the streets. Everyone in the town had assembled, holding torches and jeering at him as he was walked to a tall, thick-trunked tree. Erestor's heart beat wildly in his chest, and he limped painfully alongside his captor. Zack's hand tightened on his upper arm, reminding Erestor that escape was not an option.

Another man, taller and more muscular than Zack, tossed a long length of rope over one of the thicker limbs of the tree. Dangling on the end that now hung loose was a noose. He closed his eyes as he was turned to face the crowd of onlookers. Erestor opened his eyes again when the noose was tightened around his neck; Zack laughed near his ear.

"We should jus' string you up, let ya die slowly. But, we have women folk in the crowd, and they won' like that much." Zack motioned for a cart, drawn by a horse, to be brought to the tree. "Up ya go, Logan."

Erestor climbed onto the back of the cart awkwardly, his injured knee throbbing and his bound hands hindering him. He stood tall, his eyes forward and his lips set in a grim line. Hanging was not something he had endured before, and there was a small knot of fear in his stomach.

"Let 'im drop!"

The cart was wrenched out from his feet. Had Erestor been mortal, the sudden jerk of the rope would have broken his neck. Even with his enhanced stamina, the pain of the rope was not inconsiderable. Erestor did not need to breathe; that is, the lack of oxygen would not kill him, but it would still be damned uncomfortable and do damage to his body that only feeding would remedy. The rope was tight around his neck, cutting into his flesh and working to collapse his throat.

He struggled enough to satisfy the gathered crowd, made strangled noises, and counted to one hundred before he sagged heavily from the rope. Erestor remained still, listening to Zack recount the 'crimes' he had committed followed by the crowd's hissing and derision while someone else tied the rope off to a stake in the ground. In his mind, though, he was ticking through all the reasons he still had not killed Maglor.

*****

By the chill and silence, Erestor supposed it was well after midnight. His neck hurt from the weight placed on it, and he had one hell of a splitting headache. The soft sounds of a horse, laden with rider, came close to where he hung.

"You know, Zack is a bitter man," the musical voice called up to him. "And he hates you."

Erestor pulled at the rope behind his back, easily pulling his hands from his bonds. He slipped his fingers under the tight noose and looked down into the glittering eyes of Maglor. "Really?" he rasped out sarcastically. "I couldn't tell."

"Now, now, is that any way to behave?" Maglor chided. "It isn't my fault that Zack convinced the Mayor that it was you he'd seen leaving the saloon that night."

Erestor pulled himself up as much as he could so that he could bellow, "Of course it's your fault! You're the one that was leaving!"

"Twaddle! I'm sure Zack would have tried to pin it on you even if it hadn't been me."

"And the fact that from the back, in the dark, we look almost identical had nothing to do with it, I'm sure."

"After the way you cleaned him out in the poker tournament, he'd been looking for something to blame on you."

"How nice of you to provide him something, then. Now, are you going to get me down or not?" Erestor's fingers were beginning to ache from the strain of holding his body up.

Maglor sighed. "Oh, very well." He drew a revolver from his holster, took a casual aim, and fired. The bullet split the rope just above the tie-off at the stake, and Erestor fell heavily to the ground in a heap.

The younger Noldo struggled to his feet. His knee was still twisted at an odd angle from the gunshot wound, and his muscles were weak from the lack of oxygen and the strain of hanging for so long. "Thanks," he muttered.

Maglor reached down with one hand and lifted Erestor onto the horse behind him. He turned the mare and started slowly back on the road out of town. For a long time, the only sounds were the dusty footfalls of the horse and the whistle of the wind. Finally, Maglor said softly, "Well, I suppose I owe you a dollar, then."

Erestor chuckled roughly. "I told you he was the Mayor's son."

"Yes, but who would have thought that such an uptight man would have had such a beautiful son!"

"Even so, Maglor, you could have shown a little more discretion!" Erestor wrapped his arms tighter around his lover's waist and leaned in close. "I mean, honestly, renting a room for your little tryst in the saloon and not expecting anyone to notice! Especially with the way you carried on!"

"If you'd had that mouth on _you_ , you'd not have been able to control yourself either!" Maglor laughed.

Erestor shook his head, unable to control his own laughter. "Oh, very well. Keep your dollar. Just tell me all about it!"

TBC...


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

_Seattle, Washington, 2004_

"So, your 'unspeakable crimes' were actually Marcus' unspeakable crimes?" David asked, taking the glass of wine Erestor offered.

"Yes," Erestor said, smiling at Maglor. "He slept with the Mayor's son and left me to hang for it."

Maglor put his glass down. "Now, Vincent. You could have easily run from them."

Erestor's eyes narrowed. "I did, Marcus, and they shot my kneecap!"

The elder vampire scoffed. "A mere inconvenience."

David chuckled. "You sound like a married couple."

"Well," Erestor said, smiling sideways at Maglor, "we have been together a very long time."

Maglor looked out the window, noting the sun had set, and he felt the tug to hunt. "Vincent, we should go to the club." His silver eyes met Erestor's meaningfully, and Erestor nodded.

The temperature in the room seemed to David to drop noticeably. Perhaps it was his proximity to them after having been their victim, or perhaps it was the same force that gave him the strength to resist their powers, but whatever it was, he seemed to sense the vampires' hunger. He silenced his initial urge to run -- the instinct of the prey faced with a predator. Instead, he took a deep breath and said slowly, "If you need to feed, use me."

"No, David." Maglor's voice was soft, a smile on his full lips. "Though we appreciate the offer, it is not a very good idea."

"Why?" the human asked, a note of offense in his tone.

"If it was a normal night, I am certain we could easily have you as our meal," Maglor chuckled. "But, it is not a normal night. We have expended a lot of energy in the past forty-eight hours, and need to each feed from our own mortal. If we were to take you, we would surely kill you, David." The elder vampire cast a look of mock-concern. "And I am certain Vincent would not like to see you meet your end in such a manner."

Erestor smiled sweetly at David. "Would you like to come with us?" He turned to Maglor. "We can go to Carnality instead of Melindor; those men may be watching the club."

David watched Maglor consider the suggestion, and then slowly nod. "All right. Carnality it is."

"Carnality?" David asked, his stomach knotting in apprehension.

"Aye," Maglor said, smirking darkly. "It is a very... open club. Lots of lovely, hot gay men just waiting to be devoured."

Erestor fwapped Maglor upside the head. "Would you _please_ behave yourself?"

Maglor raised an eyebrow. "You aren't likely to be hanged in this day and Age, love."

"True," Erestor said, standing up and beginning to walk to their bedroom. "Now all I have to worry about it being clubbed over the head or having some psycho plow his car into mine."

Maglor rolled his eyes. "I knew getting you those Queer as Folk DVDs was a bad idea."

*****

David's eyes were wide as he followed Marcus and Vincent into the club. 'Carnality' was an appropriate name for such a place. The whole gay male population of Seattle had to be assembled in the large club, dancing and gyrating to the deep, pounding music pouring out into the smoky atmosphere. He gazed over the pulsing throng of man-flesh, feeling a blush creep over his fair features as he took in the sight before him.

Tall, short, slender, plump, old, young... all moving as one to the beat of the music. Some dressed in jeans and tight t-shirts, others in short shorts with midriff shirts, and yet others still wearing nothing more than underwear-like shorts. There were cages set about the room, populated by half-nude dancers thrusting and grinding their bodies. Laser lights, smoke and strobes set the fast-pace movements of the occupants.

Groping, touching, caressing, kissing, sucking... various pairs, sometimes threesomes, finding ways to couple on the dance floor. Fingers roaming over bare chests, over taut bellies and lower, stroking over bulging groins. David felt his heart race, his cock stiffen and did that guy in the chaps with his bare ass hanging out just pinch his backside as he passed by David's very still form?

"So, David," Vincent said, grinning down at him. "Welcome to Carnality!" David watched Marcus step behind Vincent and run his hands over Vincent's bared stomach. He had been surprised when Vincent had emerged from the bedroom, declaring the bathroom free for use. The vampire was wearing his hair down this evening, long and sleek and reaching to his waist; David had wanted to run his hands through the raven tresses.

What had made David's blood race through him was that the stoic, somber Vincent wore only low leather pants that clung to his skin. The waist of the pants rode dangerously low, and David still expected to see the crevice of Vincent's backside to peek out any moment. Vincent's flesh also shimmered; the vampire had dusted himself with silver powder and lined his pewter eyes with kohl. He was an exotic sight consumed by all eyes in the club.

But, Vincent was Marcus'. And all one had to do to know this was to see the way Marcus possessively held onto the slim hips of his partner as they swayed to the music.

Marcus, on the other hand, was the image of sensual sophistication. The taller vampire wore his hair down as well, though two strands from the front were drawn back and plaited into a single, thin braid that rested on the nest of his dark hair. Marcus' hair was not as long as Vincent's, but the effect was still as stunning. He wore a simple pair of tight black jeans, low like Vincent's, and a long-sleeve, white Armani button-down shirt. Though the shirt was only buttoned in one place -- just above the vampire's navel.

David, having still not returned to his apartment, had been forced to borrow some of Vincent's clothing. More accurately, Vincent had dressed him up for Carnality. David was uncomfortable in the skin-tight blue jeans and tight black t-shirt; he felt exposed even though he was completely clothed.

"Don't look so down," Marcus shouted before nuzzling at Vincent's neck. The two were an erotic vision, and arousal coursed through his body. He wanted them, wanted to be theirs. "Wait here!" Marcus commanded, pushing David toward the bar. "We'll be back for you in a few moments!"

They walked away, the crowd seeming to part for them, and then they were swallowed up, gone from David's sight. He sighed and ordered a beer as he sat and watched the mass of people on the floor.

*****

David tossed back his second shot of Jagermeister, hissing as the bitter alcohol burned his throat. He put the shot glass down and picked up his beer again as he turned back around to the dance floor. Vincent and Marcus had been gone for the better part of an hour, and David had become restless, choosing to quickly become drunk. He was not a heavy drinker, and the liquor was swiftly going to his head.

Slender arms snaked about his waist from behind and he was drawn back against the slighter build of Vincent.

"Forgive us, David," he purred against the shell of David's ear. "It took us a bit longer than anticipated to find what we were seeking." Vincent's tongue came out, hot and slick, sliding up the outer edge of David's ear, and he trembled in Vincent's arms. David let his head fall against Vincent's shoulder, and the vampire eagerly took possession of David's mouth. When David was hard and whimpering, Vincent pulled back and licked his lips. "You have been drinking."

"Yes," David breathed.

"Are you able to dance?" Marcus asked from beside David. "We want you to dance with us."

David's eyes were glazed with lust and alcohol, but he nodded, taking in a shaky breath. "Yes."

"Good boy," Vincent murmured, pressing his leather covered arousal along David's jean-clad crevice. The music began as he was dragged onto the dance floor. A single female voice with a light beat behind her words enticed them further to join the writhing mass of humanity, teasing them with a lilting melody before the song truly began.

When the introduction ended and the hard, thundering bass line began, it was impossible not to be swept up by the raw sensuality that pounded from the speakers all around them. Marcus stood behind David, hands on the Man's hips, while Vincent pressed his body close to David's front. Together, the three began to grind their hips to the pulsing rhythm as though they were one being. Vincent wrapped his arms around David's waist, rubbing himself against David's slighter form and caressing the exposed flesh of David's back as they danced. His eyes moved from the hazel gaze of the Man to the smoldering grey gaze of his lover. Vincent's hands were hot on his skin, and Marcus' mouth on his throat brought moans of desire from his lips. He was tightly wedged between them, their hands roaming his body and laying claim to him.

He was theirs, if only for tonight.

Vincent stepped back a bit, his body still swaying to the driving beat, and Marcus' hands slithered beneath David's t-shirt. Before he could protest, David felt Marcus pull the thin black fabric from his torso, revealing his slightly golden chest to anyone who cared to look. He opened his mouth to demand the shirt back, but Vincent was again touching him, teasing his newly bared skin with agile, knowing fingers. David also felt Marcus' bare chest against his back, and the silken skin gliding over his sweat-dampened flesh.

It was a fog of lust, a haze that David clung to as they slid against each other. Marcus' lips returned to his neck, suckling, biting, marking him, and Vincent's hand slipped lower, following the golden trail of hair from David's navel to the button of his jeans. David's heavy-lidded eyes were captured by Vincent's dark, bottomless ones as that hand deftly unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down, and delved between their grinding bodies to stroke his eager flesh. He gasped, but the sound was cut off when Vincent brought their lips together roughly, thrusting his tongue into David's mouth.

Marcus' arousal was pressed against his backside, teasing him with promises of what pleasures the thick shaft could bring him. Vincent caressed him to the beat of the music, the three of them still moving as one. His lips burned with the force of Vincent's kisses, his neck ached with various bruises Marcus's lips were leaving in their wake. He felt his orgasm building swiftly, and he became weak in his knees. Marcus held his weight effortlessly, his fingers pinching and pulling at David's nipples as the two vampires brought him quickly to a peak.

David cried out into Vincent's mouth, his body trembling in Marcus' arms as he spilled his seed into his boxer shorts, over Vincent's questing hand. He was oblivious to any and all around him; Vincent finally released his mouth, and David panted heavily, his head lolling against Marcus' shoulder as they continued to move before and behind him to the song.

Vincent released his softening cock, brought his hand carefully from David's jeans and licked delicately at his glistening fingers. His eyes were smoldering coals of desire and he smiled wickedly, offering the fingers to Marcus' smirking lips over David's shoulder. The taller vampire sucked the slender digits into his mouth, grazing his teeth along the skin.

"Let's get out of here," Marcus called out over the music.

David nodded, his legs still shaky from the combination of alcohol and orgasm. "Take me drunk, I'm home," he quipped with a slight slur in his voice.

Vincent leaned in and kissed David deeply, rubbing more of the silver powder off on his chest and face. "Oh, we intend to," he said wolfishly.

*****

Maglor easily opened the door, leading a wobbly David and a grinning Erestor into the dark interior of the apartment. A trail of clothing was left behind as they kissed and fondled their way into the bedroom. Erestor pushed a nude David back onto the bed, causing him to land in a wide sprawl across the dark sheets. Before Erestor could pounce, Maglor wound his hand into the long dark tresses, forcing Erestor's head back. David watched as Maglor slowly brought him mouth into contact with Erestor's, their tongues meeting in a deep display of affection and desire.

"You are both so beautiful," David breathed, staring up at the pale figures in a passionate embrace.

Maglor released Erestor, smiling down at the Man as he slid his own jeans off. Erestor, having already wriggled out of his leather, crawled on the bed between David's legs. "I want to feel you in my mouth, David," he said in a thick voice.

David's eyes followed Erestor, the dark head dipping down and the red tongue darting out to lick his length. Erestor lapped at the damp tip, suckled down the large vein, and danced his tongue along David's sac before he engulfed the entire shaft in one smooth movement. David cried out, arching his back off the bed and thrusting deep into the tight throat.

As the Man writhed beneath Erestor's mouth, Maglor slid behind David, lifting his torso up to rest against him. "He is something, is he not?" he whispered into David's ear, his hot breath ghosting over the Man's sensitive lobe. "In all my long years, dear David, I have never known another who can worship the shaft as Vincent does." Maglor's eyes were steady on Erestor's moving head, his own cock hard and needy as he pressed against David's body. He kissed down David's neck, nipping at a bruise over the pounding vein beneath the skin. "We came to a compromise, eager one. We fed from only one tonight, slaking our hunger enough as to not harm our second, more inviting course." Maglor licked up to David's ear again. "You."

David screamed his delight as Maglor's fangs sank into his neck, a connection made between them in that moment of intimacy. The constant suction on him, and the draw of Maglor's own lustful thoughts, dragged him into a new frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

The slighter vampire lifted his head, licking his lips as he smirked. "I think I could become used to you," he whispered as he moved slowly up David's body, kissed the parted lips briefly. "You are so willing, so energetic," he continued as he cupped Maglor's cheek, pulling his lover from the pale throat. "He reminds me of... well, of me." Erestor chuckled, bending to Maglor's blood-smeared lips and running his tongue along them.

"Yes, you were always an enthusiastic student," Maglor replied, kissing Erestor, blood and semen mixing between their dancing tongues.

David lay heavily in Maglor's arms. "I don't think I have it in me to continue this," he said tiredly. "If it were just one on the dance floor or one in this bed, I could conceive of going once more... but I think you have sucked me dry."

"Oh no," Maglor said, tilting David's head back so he could look into the human's eyes. "We still need relief, and it is in your body we desire to find it." Maglor sealed his mouth over David's, kissing him as Erestor bit into the tender flesh Maglor had just abandoned, drinking his fill of the Man's blood.

When Erestor released David's mind from the connection the feeding offered, David was once again hard and begging them for anything to ease the ache. "Onto your hands and knees, love," Erestor crooned to the panting Man. "Do you want to feel me or Marcus inside you?" he asked as David rearranged himself and Maglor retrieved the lubricant.

"You," David said in an unsteady voice. "You."

"I figured," Maglor chuckled. "It just means I am lucky enough to feel your mouth around me." He placed the tube of slick gel in Erestor's outstretched hand, smiling at his lover. Maglor settled himself before David, on his knees, his thick length bobbing slightly. "Open," he commanded softly.

David obeyed, and Maglor eased himself into the warmth of David's mouth. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering closed as he continued to press forward. David whimpered around the thick flesh, trying his best to accommodate the large member. He trembled as Erestor smeared the gel on his opening, thrusting a single finger into him for a moment, and then withdrawing it. A strangled cry escaped him when Erestor swiftly pushed his cock into his passage, filling and claiming him.

The Man was light-headed with arousal and blood-loss, but he moved upon Maglor's length with relish and met each of Erestor's brutal thrusts into his body.

"You are special, David," Erestor ground out, his eyes seeking out Maglor's. The Man was tight and welcoming, velvet and heat, and Erestor knew he did not want to let this one go. "You were made for this." He reached under David, gripping the hard shaft and stroking it quickly. The blood still rushing through them, all the foreplay, the moans the Man made and sight of him pierced by both of them was enough to send Erestor crashing into orgasm.

Maglor watched his lover find release in David; the younger vampire's head was flung back, the glossy ink tresses teasing the bedsheets, and his body a perfect arc as he thrust deeply inside the Man. His own cock throbbed, and soon he spilled himself in the pulsing throat of their new lover. David was still whimpering, Erestor's hand moving over the Man's erection at a steady pace, driving David closer to his third orgasm that night.

A pain-tinged howl of release escaped David's bruised and swollen lips as he coated Erestor's hand with his seed. The Man's arms went weak and he collapsed, his backside still up in the air, but his flushed, sweat-covered face was buried in the mattress.

Erestor carefully extracted himself from David, grabbing a towel from the floor from his earlier shower. He wiped his hands and tenderly cleaned David's opening of lubricant and semen. The Man had not moved from his crumpled state, and Erestor's brow furrowed in concern. "David?" he called quietly, raising panicked eyes to Maglor's face. "Are you all right, dear one?"

A quiet snore emanated from prone form on the bed. Maglor chuckled. "He is asleep, melethen." The elder vampire picked the sleeping Man up, and Erestor pulled down the bedsheets. Once David was settled comfortably in the bed, Maglor took Erestor into his arms. "Don't fall in love, Erestor," he warned. "He is mortal and will die."

The slighter Noldo gazed longingly at David. "I want to keep him with us."

"Erestor."

Dark eyes, swirling with pain, looked up at him. "Please."

Maglor sighed. "Very well. Keep your pet. Can we sleep now?"

Erestor smiled, his eyes bright with gratitude. "Aye." He brought their lips together for a long moment, their minds opening to one another in a gesture of love and contentment. For that brief moment, Maglor knew what it was to care for the Man as Erestor did, and Erestor knew what it was to care for himself as Maglor did.

In that rare moment of symbiosis, they were as one being. It was clear to both that no matter what this David would mean to either of them, it would always be a pale shadow of their feelings for each other, and for their lost loves across the Sea. They were content with that, finally, even Maglor, and he lay against Erestor's back while the younger Noldo drifted off to sleep with a protective arm cast across his new infatuation.

TBC...


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Erestor listened to the soft, even breathing of his two lovers, watching the room lighten as dawn broke over the city. He had lain awake for hours, wondering about this Man and what he had glimpsed when looking into his mind. The vampire slipped from the warm embrace of Maglor, carefully lifting his hand from David's hip so as not to wake the Man.

He had not yet spoken to Maglor about the final image he had seen in David's mind. There had been moments that he himself had forgotten about it. But here, in the stillness of morning, it all flooded back to him. These watchers were more dangerous than he could have imagined. He knew that he had to find them, and despite his hatred of the thought, Erestor was almost convinced he would have to kill them.

He picked up David's jeans from the floor and pulled out the wallet that the Man had foolishly carried with him. He slipped the driver's license out and memorized the address. He was hoping to find some way to locate the others, and David's home would be the place to start. Flipping casually through the credit cards and pictures, though, Erestor suddenly froze. There, captured on film, was a face that he never thought to see again. The same face he'd seen in David's mind now looked up from a small photo marked "Me and Dad, '92". It was a face he'd seen a thousand times, a face he'd seen grow into maturity.

And then Erestor knew.

*****

The clamor in the kitchen finally woke Maglor. He lay in the bed listening to the sounds of pots clanging and water boiling. He was dreading the awful concoction that Erestor was no doubt about to surprise him with, and then he heard a strange man's voice. No, a strange Man's voice.

"Shit!"

The curse was followed by the sound of a pan clattering to the floor and water, presumably boiling, splashing across the hot stovetop. Maglor's initial shock at hearing the unfamiliar voice decrescendoed into an amused frustration. Ah, yes, the mortal was still here.

David chose that moment to appear in the doorway. 'Speak of the devil,' Maglor mused. 'Or rather, spoken of _by_ a devil.'

"I don't suppose the two immortals would have something as banal as a first-aid kit around here?" David's left hand was wrapped in a towel, and he was cradling it gingerly against his chest.

Maglor tried to stifle the wicked grin that threatened to burst across his face. The best he could do was to keep it to a sarcastic smirk. "There is an aloe plant in the library. Just break off the tip of one of the fatter leaves and squeeze it out onto your burn. And use the potholders next time."

"Most people buy pots with insulated handles."

"Vincent bought them. He said that this way he could put them in the oven as well. Why one would ever need to put a stock pot into an oven is beyond me, but he seemed to think it was terribly important."

David chuckled. "Where is he, anyway? He was already gone when I woke up."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Maglor said with a shrug. He pulled himself from the bed, unflinchingly immodest in his nakedness. He disappeared into the large walk-in closet, calling back over his shoulder, "He said nothing to me about going anywhere."

David caught himself staring at Marcus' body, and felt the heat rising in his cheeks when the vampire noticed and winked at him. He hurried to the library, ostensibly to put some aloe on his blistering skin, but also to spare himself further embarrassment in front of the ancient creature.

*****

Erestor still had not returned by the time Maglor had finished cleaning away the mess in the kitchen and preparing David and himself a nice breakfast. The meal consisted of poached eggs, English muffins with marmalade, and a passable version of black pudding that he had purchased from a British goods store downtown.

Of all the various cultures he had lived in throughout the long years, Maglor had to admit that, their other faults notwithstanding, the British made spectacular food. The French and Italian foods were too high-class and delicate, Spanish and German were simply too heavy and blunt. British, though, was a perfect balance, even though Erestor tended to turn his nose up at it. What did he know, anyway?

David finished the meal and sat back from the table with a satisfied sigh. He'd had his doubts about the pudding (which turned out to be a sausage), but it was really surprisingly good. He swallowed the last of his tea and sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "So, since Vincent hasn't come back, perhaps you could humor me a little more with another tale?"

Maglor cursed Erestor for simply disappearing. This was his responsibility, not Maglor's, and entertaining the human was the last thing on his 'To Do' list for the day. But, he could not very well leave David here to his own devices, and what did he truly need to accomplish this morning? "Very well. Did you have something in mind?"

"Actually, I did. There is an image in a Chicago newspaper, during the Great Chicago Fire, where you are running from one of the burning buildings with a child in your arms. Tell me about that child and why you saved her," David said, gazing levelly at the vampire.

Of all the events the human could have asked about, he had to ask about that one specifically. Maglor was certain this mortal had a book of questions, and these were the least intrusive to David's mind. He let out a long breath and crossed his legs. "That girl was Vincent's daughter. She and her mother had been in their home. Vincent ran in to find Fran, his wife, and asked me to seek out Violet in the blaze. She could not have been more than ten years old at the time."

David's brow creased. "Vincent had a wife?"

Maglor chuckled. "Come now, David. In all these centuries, do you not think that the art of marriage and childrearing would appeal to one such as our Vincent? He wooed Fran for two years; they wed in the autumn in a lovely little church. Violet came within a year of the wedding." The vampire's eyes became distant, as if he were mentally scanning photo albums in his mind. A sad, wistful smile appeared, and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. "Violet was a lovely child. I adored her the moment Vincent placed her in my arms. We both spoiled her, loved her."

"Were you and Vincent--" David began, but stopped as Maglor shook his head.

"No. The moment he began to court her, we ceased being lovers. It was a very long fifteen years for me without him as mine, but I understood his motives. He wanted to be like all the other bankers with wives and families." Maglor pierced David with his sharp gaze. "What he forgot was that he is not like all the others. Wives and children are for the living, the aging, and he is not among those." Maglor deliberately returned to the grim tale of Erestor's lost wife and daughter. "Violet was in her bedroom, hiding in a closet..."

*****

_Chicago, 1871_

"Come now, Violet!" Maglor cried, raising his voice above the roar of the fire that crept closer to the small closet. The dark-haired child's eyes were closed, and he swore as he gathered her into his arms. His eyes watered with the heat and the smoke, and he clumsily made his way through the home and out into the fresh air of the late night street.

Erestor had told him to save her, to run from the burning buildings, and Maglor did just that. He ran with the crowds, still trying to rouse the child. If Violet died in his arms, neither he nor Erestor would forgive him. No, he would not let her go! He stopped running, taking refuge under the awning of a building, and crouched on the pavement. He rested her head in his lap. "Violet?" he called. "Violet, you wake this instant! Your Papa will be so worried, child. You must wake."

Maglor sobbed as he held her to him. Oh, Violet.

A flash went off as Maglor glanced up. The newspaperman winked and rushed away, leaving him alone once more with Erestor's precious flower. He bowed his head again, his tears slipping down his soot covered face.

"Uncle Marcell?"

The soft, sweet voice, roughed slightly, was like a douse of cold water on his burned flesh. "Violet!" he said, hugging her close. "Oh, doll, you're all right!"

"Uncle Marcell?" she repeated, disoriented and slowly taking in their surroundings with her onyx-like eyes. "Where are Papa and Mama?"

"Your Papa is bringing your Mama, doll." Maglor cradled her close, never wanting to let her go. "He will find us soon."

Violet cuddled close, twining her fingers in his long hair, and Maglor picked her up. He slowly walked toward the area of the city where his apartment home was, knowing Erestor would come for them there. He had to take Violet away from the shrieking panic in the crowded streets.

Erestor did not come.

Fran did not come.

But, the ladies from the orphanage did.

They took Violet from him. It was not proper, they told Maglor, for a single man to be looking after a child. No, he was not her relative, but he was a very close friend of the family. No, he did not care what the laws were, they could not take Violet from him!

But they did.

A week after Violet was taken away; they found Fran's remains in the burned home. It was assumed that, since Maglor had said Erestor had gone in after his wife, Erestor must have perished with her. The state declared Vachel and Fran Belden deceased and their daughter, Violet Belden, a ward of the state. All communication with the orphanage and Maglor ceased.

It was in the dead of night, after Maglor had drunk himself into a stupor, that Erestor returned to him.

"Where is she, Maglor?" Erestor demanded, his eyes wide and wild.

"I tried all I could, Erestor! They took her from me. You are dead to the mortal world, as is your wife, and I am not a blood relative!" Maglor pushed Erestor away from him, swaying on his feet as he stood from his chair. "I _tried_ , Erestor. They came with police and snatched her from my arms." He lifted his eyes to his friend's face, his tears reflected on Erestor's pale cheeks. "I am sorry, melethen. She is lost to us."

*****

_Seattle, 2004_

Maglor wiped away the few stray tears on his lashes. "She remained in the orphanage five years," he said, his voice hushed. "A wealthy older gentleman came seeking a wife and chose Violet. After that, we lost all track of her. She just... disappeared."

"Did he ever find her?" David asked softly.

"No. We did not know the man, and if he did marry her as we think he did, her last name would have changed. I wouldn't be surprised if he also changed her first name, since 'Violet' was a very common, plain name." Maglor uncrossed his legs. "Now you know the story behind the image in that clipping. I was holding Violet in my arms just before she woke and the photographer caught me off-guard, which is why there is no name associated with the image."

It was quiet in the room, the hand on the clock ticking slowly as the seconds passed. "Did he ever marry again?" David finally asked.

Maglor cleared his throat. "No. He never married, and he has never been sexually involved with a woman since."

"How is it he could have a child?" The man turned to face Maglor. "I mean, I thought you were dead and therefore would not be able to impregnate a woman."

"You amuse me, David," Maglor said, chuckling. "You think of Man's fictions. This is a curse, but not one that prevents us from siring our own progeny outside of a bite."

"Then why do you not do either? You are alone, lovers to each other, but no one else." David felt himself drawn into the stormy depths of Maglor's intense gaze.

Maglor leaned closer, cupping David's cheek with his palm. "All I need is Vincent, dear child."

David blinked, realizing for the first time that he was not here due to a mutual need of him. He was here because _Vincent_ wanted him to be. "But, are you all he needs?" he whispered. A muscle twitched in Maglor's jaw and his eyes seemed to flash dangerously. "He needs something, Marcus, but it isn't you," David finished.

TBC...


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

It was late when Erestor entered the apartment. The silence was almost deafening as he tossed a large packet of papers onto a nearby table. He shed his coat and turned, gasping when he finally realized Maglor was seated on their worn sofa, watching him with intent, angry eyes.

"Maglor," he sighed, unbraiding his hair. "You shouldn't sit in the dark, still as death. It's not natural."

Maglor snorted. "And we're oh so natural," he quipped sardonically.

Erestor sighed, glancing around the vacant room. "Where is David?"

"Your pet is asleep in your bed," Maglor said, his tone warning Erestor that the elder vampire was not happy.

"Since when did it become _my_ bed, Maglor? I do recall someone else occupying it other than myself." Erestor crossed his arms and glared down at Maglor. He was in no mood to play with Maglor's jealousy, and he just wanted a shower and some rest.

Maglor's lips were tight, his eyes burning with an inner fire. "It became yours when you brought the stray home and insisted on keeping it." Maglor stood up, now taller than Erestor, and continued to stare at him. "You know what happens when you become involved with a mortal, when your _heart_ becomes involved."

"Don't you dare," Erestor hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Maglor raised an eyebrow. "Dare what, lover? Tell the truth? Fran died because you loved her!"

"She died because of the fire!" Erestor shot back.

"Had you not married her, Erestor, she would not have been there. Violet would not have been there!" Maglor loomed over Erestor, not sure what he was angry at any longer. "Fran died because of you, and Violet was taken because of me. Do not sentence David to the same type of fate."

Erestor measured Maglor carefully. "What did he say, Maglor?" When he received no response, he pressed forward. "What did David say that has you so upset?"

They stared at one another, Erestor silently demanding an answer and Maglor carefully weighing his options. When Erestor thought Maglor would simply refuse to respond, Maglor surprised him by cupping his face in a vicious grip and kissing him. The kiss was not loving or tender, but bruising and possessive. Maglor thrust his tongue between Erestor's parted lips and laid claim to the younger vampire's mouth as he had on only a handful of occasions.

When Maglor finally released him, pushing him away, Erestor stumbled back against the wall, panting. "What did he say, Maglor?" he asked again, his lips aching.

Maglor, his back to Erestor, spoke in a soft, defeated voice. "He said that you needed something, but that something was not me."

Erestor was silent for a few moments, confusion robbing him of speech. "Maglor. You always knew that I needed him, not you. I need _him_ ," Erestor said sadly. "And you have never needed me, melethen. I love you, and you love me, but we are not _in_ love with one another. Our hearts are not ours to give."

"Would you give me your heart, Erestor, if it was free to give?" Maglor asked bitterly. "The one who stole your life from you? Could you love me as you loved him?"

Erestor shook his head. "That is not the point. I can't. And you don't want my love. You have a love--"

"Who is _dead_ , Erestor!" Maglor cried, facing Erestor with tears shimmering in his eyes. "He is _dead_ , and I have been without him or the warmth of his love since the world changed." Maglor's hands were clenched in fists as he spoke. "While you carry some hope that Glorfindel will somehow return to you, I am not blessed with such a hope."

"He could--"

He was cut off again. "No! His deeds were so terrible that he will never return from Mandos' halls." Maglor lifted his chin. "He is as damned as I am, and so my life will forever be as grey as it is now."

Erestor's throat tightened and his ears rang. Something in his heart told him not to ask, not to wonder at who this mysterious lover of Maglor's had been or what his fell deeds were, but his lips formed the words despite his mind's cries. "Who was it, Maglor?"

Eyes like a raging sea met Erestor's levelly, the pewter depths awash in misery. "My brother. Maedhros."

"Maedhros?"

Maglor nodded. "We became lovers in Aman, before crossing with our father to Middle-earth. He was my heart, my life, all that I held dear. I have never told any that we were lovers, but I do not see the need for such discretions now, do you?" he asked, almost sarcastically. "And, since we are doing away with all secrets concerning my loves, we should perhaps put one more to rest." Maglor approached Erestor as he would his prey, feral and dangerous. "What do you remember of your death, pen vorn?" (dark one)

"Light. Brilliant light flooding Angband," Erestor said, his eyes riveted on Maglor's. "Soft words and grey eyes."

Maglor leaned closer. "Your hatred toward me is ill-directed. I was not the one to condemn you to your fate. My brother saw you lying bleeding and broken, sweet and innocent, and he bit you. He drank from you and then he fed you his own blood. You awoke in my rooms, one of us, and he was gone. I am not the source of your misery, Erestor. Your creator is dead and gone, forever damned to the cold of Mandos' halls." Maglor's face was so close to Erestor's now, and the elder vampire's eyes were narrowed in anger. "Be content in that knowledge," he hissed, instantly regretting the harshness of his tone. He was not angry with Erestor, of course, but the younger Noldo was at least an available target.

The words rang in Erestor's ears. "Why did you never tell me?"

"Ah, but that would have meant revealing too much to you," Maglor chuckled mirthlessly.

Erestor stared, still stunned at the revelation. What could he say? Worthless platitudes? Maglor would scoff at such sentimental nonsense. No, there was nothing that the younger vampire could do to bring any measure of consolation to the elder. So, Erestor did all he could do -- he changed the subject.

"About David," he began, clearing his throat. "There is something you should know about him. I found this picture in his wallet this morning. This is why I left for the day. It is a photo of him with his father. Tell me what you see." Erestor handed the picture to Maglor, who sat down heavily on the sofa.

Maglor sighed heavily, clearly in no mood for such foolish games. He accepted the picture and glanced half-heartedly at it. All at once, he stood bolt upright, and his sigh became a gasp. "Tell me this is a coincidence."

Erestor crossed his arms and shook his head. "I wish I could. But I spent the day in the library archives tracing the lines, all the way back into the special collection that only I have access to. It is no coincidence."

Maglor looked more closely at the picture. The resemblance was unmistakable. The ancient Noldo mentally stripped away the eyeglasses, the modern clothing, and the camcorder around the shoulder, and replaced them with a light helm, ring mail armor emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor, and the sheath of Andúril, Flame of the West.

He was staring at King Elessar.

Erestor continued, "This is why his family could sense us. This is why it was so difficult for me to penetrate his mind. His is the line of the Númenoreans. Diluted almost beyond recognition, to be sure, but a trace of that noble blood still flows in his veins."

"And he doesn't know?" Maglor asked, but held up his hand. "Stupid question. Of course he doesn't know, or else he would have a far better idea of who we are."

"So, what do we do now?" Erestor asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa as Maglor fell into the deep cushions.

Maglor continued to stare at the image. "What do you think we should do?"

Erestor thought for a moment before saying, "Do we tell him the whole truth?"

"Do you think he would believe us?" Maglor still did not look up at Erestor for fear the younger vampire would see the smile tugging at his lips. How he loved to tease Erestor, and the lighter mood they were creating was a welcome respite from the earlier confessions he had made.

Erestor opened his mouth, and then closed it again with a sigh. "Are you playing questions with me?"

Maglor smirked. "Would you like me to?"

"Damn it, Maglor!" Erestor snapped, smacking the back of Maglor's head sharply.

"Statement! My point." Maglor smiled up at Erestor while rubbing the sore spot where Erestor had struck him.

Erestor glared down at his lover. "This is no time for games!"

Maglor laid a hand on Erestor thigh as he spoke, his smile never leaving his lips. His tone took on an almost hysterical quality. "My dear Erestor, there is no better time. You have just revealed to me that the mortal who sleeps in our bed is none other than the culmination of the long-forgotten line of Númenor, and that his father and uncle, who lay even a generation closer to that ancient power, are but a provocation away from seeking to destroy us utterly, and are perhaps the only living mortals with the ability to do so!" Maglor threw his hands up in the air with exaggerated glee. "Games may be all we have left!"

"We'll relocate," Erestor shot back.

Maglor sobered, countering with, "They will find us!"

"We'll have David speak to them for us," Erestor tried, desperate to find a solution to the problem.

Maglor shook his head. "They will not listen!"

Erestor stood up and angrily stared at Maglor. "Then what do you suggest, Maglor? Hunt them down?"

Maglor stilled, fixing his stony gaze on Erestor. "I fear, melethen, that they will come for us soon enough."

TBC...

Elvish/English:  
melethen : my love


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

"David, we must talk," Erestor said quietly, touching his lips to David's slightly parted ones. The hazel eyes slowly opened, still clouded with sleep, but the Man smiled up at Erestor. "Come; Marcus has made tea and coffee."

David blinked slowly, fully waking as Vincent helped him up. He slipped on a pair of silk trousers and yawned as he padded through the hallway behind Vincent. "Why couldn't this wait until the morning?"

"Because what we need to tell you is important," Erestor said, sitting on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him. "Sit, David."

"I am not a lap dog, Vincent," David said sourly, but he sat.

Erestor glanced up at Maglor before returning his gaze to David. "My name is not Vincent, David."

David stopped in mid-sip of the scalding coffee Marcus had handed him. He raised his eyebrows and set his mug down. "I figured it wasn't, but I was not going to press you for what you were really called."

"Well, don't worry," Maglor said from his position by a window, perched on a stool. "We have decided you need to know who we are."

"Did you, in all your studies, study linguistics?" Erestor asked, wanting to probe David's knowledge a bit.

David nodded. "Of course. I am a historian, and as such, I had to learn various languages and how to interpret ones I may not already know."

"All right. Did you ever study the languages Professor Tolkien created for his world?" Erestor ventured.

Once more, the Man nodded. "I took a semester on it. It was fascinating. Why? What does that have to do with your names?"

"I just wanted to know if you had heard of Tolkien's works before I told you who we were." Erestor's eyes met David's, not sure what he was searching for. All he saw in the warm, hazel orbs was curiosity and confusion. Erestor bit his lip for a moment, and urged by Maglor's impatient clearing of his throat, Erestor just blurted it out. "Our names are Maglor," Erestor said, nodding his head in Maglor's direction, "and Erestor."

David pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought. "Okay," he nodded. "That's one. What are the other five impossible things that I need to believe before breakfast?"

"You're taking this remarkably well," Erestor noted.

David shrugged. "Hell, if I can believe in vampires, I can believe in Elves. I can even believe in vampiric Elves from a fictional world flowing from the pen-scratchings of a long-dead British repressed homosexual."

"Hmm. He didn't seem that repressed when I met him," Maglor mumbled.

David pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's two," he groaned.

Erestor moved closer to David and took his hands. "It's very simple. Part of the mythos is that Tolkien translated all of the tales from the Red Book of Westmarch, right? Well, the truth is, that's exactly what happened. I'll show you."

Maglor leaned forward when Erestor stood and walked to the small library. "Erestor rescued the original Red Book from the scribes of Gondor at the very beginning of this, the longest of all Ages. The time of the Elves was over, and the book held the only complete account of our history. Erestor protected that book for centuries. It was only because of the direst emergency that he was finally forced to leave it behind."

"And I never stopped searching for it," came Erestor's voice from the library door. He held in his hands a tattered, but still tightly bound red book. "It is hard to believe that it wasn't destroyed, and for a long while, I despaired of ever finding it intact again."

"Tolkien found it, didn't he?" David asked. "He found it, and was able to translate it because of his linguistic training."

Erestor nodded. "The book is basically Middle-earth's Rosetta Stone. It contains enough Quenya, Sindarin, and Westron -- which virtually gave birth to primitive Gaelic and Welsh -- to piece together most of the meanings. Tolkien started to publish some of the early translations in scholarly journals, and that's how I found him."

"Publishing these fantastical stories would have destroyed any credibility he had," Maglor continued. "So we went to him and persuaded him to publish them as fiction and completely obscure their source."

David looked at Maglor skeptically and prodded, "Persuaded? You mean...?"

"Yes, as in it took a preternatural force of will to convince him," Maglor said with a hint of frustration. "Fortunately, the human mind is easier to manipulate during states of extreme relaxation; say, in the aftermath of an orgasm."

David held up his hands. "More than I need to know."

Erestor sat down beside David again and placed the book in his lap, opened to a well-known page. The Man looked down at the strange language. Foreign though it was, the lettering was Romanized, and the vocabulary was frighteningly close to English -- close enough for him to understand the few words before him.

"There and Back Again," he read. "A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins." David looked between Erestor, Maglor, and the book. "You're not bullshitting me, are you?" he said in dead seriousness.

"No, dear David. I am afraid we are not," Maglor said softly. "Close your eyes and run your fingertips along Erestor's ear."

Unsure of this strange command, David hesitated. When Erestor nodded encouragingly, David shrugged and closed his eyes. Erestor guided the mortal's questing fingers to his ear. David slid his fingers upward from the lobe, expecting to feel the gentle curve across the top, but instead, his touch revealed... a point? His eyes flew open, and sure enough, he could see his fingers resting at the tip of a pointed ear.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, pulling his hand back. He looked at Erestor's other ear, but saw only the ear he would expect to see.

"I didn't do anything," Erestor explained. "You did. Your mind refused to believe what it was seeing until you touched it. This is how we can move among mortals in this Age of Man without arousing suspicion. The human mind simply refuses to see what it cannot accept to be true. Even now, if you do not concentrate, you will likely not see us as we truly are."

David squinted at Erestor's ears. The vampire -- no, dammit, the Elf -- was right. Even focusing right at the tip of the ear, the point seemed to fade in and out of sight. When his eyes began to water, David blinked several times. "Right. So, what are we up to now, four or five?"

"Trust me, breakfast is coming soon, your Majesty," Maglor quipped. Then he turned slightly to address Erestor. "Trenaro athen." (Tell him the whole story.)

Erestor sighed. "There is more. Now that you know who we are, it is time for you to learn who you are. When I was probing your mind, I saw a face that I never thought to see again. It was someone I knew in the times when this book was written. I thought for a moment that your family had made the connection to Tolkien's works."

"No way. There's no way that we would have ever come up with something this incredible," David said quickly.

"I know that now. I went through your wallet this morning, wanting to know more about you, and I found the source of the face I saw. Your father's face."

David's face twisted in confusion. "But I thought you said it was a face you'd known from Middle-earth?"

"It was." Erestor reached into David's lap and turned the pages of the book to almost the end. On the page, looking up at David, was an ink drawing of a Man in battle armor wielding a sword inscribed with Elvish runes. The face was identical to that in the photograph that Erestor now returned.

"Who am I looking at?" David said with a slight tremble in his voice.

"That," Maglor interrupted, "is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also known as King Elessar of Gondor. He is your ancestor."

David stood up, oblivious to the book still on his lap. Erestor rushed to catch the Red Book before it hit the ground. Maglor, meanwhile, watched David. The Man paced back and forth a few times, staring down at the picture of his father. Finally, he stopped and looked up at the two vampires. "That's six. I think I want waffles for breakfast."

Then he passed out.

Maglor groaned and walked over to the collapsed Man. "This is becoming a terrible habit," he grumbled as he lifted David up, following Erestor down the hallway and into their bedroom.

*****

It was bright when David opened his eyes. He was nude, covered with a thick comforter, and his head pounded. He sat up slowly, cradling his head in his hands. God, what the hell happened?

Then he remembered.

Elves. Vampires. Aragorn.

"I see you have woken, sleeping beauty," Erestor said lightly, placing a tray on the bed beside David. "We were beginning to worry." Erestor pointed toward the tray. "I believe you wanted waffles?"

David's stomach turned at the sight of the butter- and syrup-drenched waffles. Instead, he took the warm mug of fragrant tea in hand and sipped the sweet liquid, closing his eyes against the harsh afternoon light. "Could you close the shades? My head is killing me and the light is not helping."

Maglor appeared and closed the blinds, plunging the room into twilight. "Does that help?"

"Yes, thank you," David said, continuing to sip his tea and relax against the pillows. As he drank the tea, David pondered on what he remembered of Tolkien's works, as well as what Erestor and Maglor had told him themselves. "I thought the Elves sailed West," he said absently.

Erestor nodded. "They did."

"Why haven't you?"

Maglor joined the two on the bed, sitting cross-legged. "We are not of the Elves any longer, and so the way is shut to us. Aman is not our land anymore."

"If Aman exists, and it is to the west, why have we never come across it in all of our sea explorations? One would think that such a place would be easily noticed," David said, setting the empty mug on the tray.

"Well," Erestor began, "when the Númenoreans decided to seek the Blessed Realm, the Valar removed Aman from the circles of the world. They hid it from all but the Elves who would one day return. When an Elf prepares to sail for Aman, they merely begin sailing west. If they are deemed worthy, the path is shown to them and they sail to the harbors there. The Valar admit only those they desire to," Erestor finished sadly.

"Have you never tried?" David asked, his heart aching at the sorrow in Erestor's beautiful voice.

Maglor laughed hollowly. "Oh, we have tried. Sailing west never really works out for us."

David tilted his head as he regarded Maglor quizzically. "How so?"

"Each time we have sailed westward," Erestor said on a sigh, "something terrible has happened to the ship. A hurricane, churning seas, whirlpools, icebergs--"

"You were on the Titanic!" David cried, wincing as his head pounded. He took a deep breath, willing his stomach not to expel the tea onto the lovely comforter. "I have a photograph of you both, standing on the gangway leading up to the Titanic. You were smiling and waving."

Maglor snorted. "Erestor insisted we be on the maiden voyage."

"I did not!" Erestor shot back, pinching Maglor's exposed ankle.

"Ow! Yes, you did! You bought the tickets and told me you would leave me in Liverpool if I did not come with you." Maglor turned to David, still rubbing his ankle. "He made other, more frightening, threats, but I shall not repeat them."

Erestor glared at Maglor. "I _should_ have left you in Liverpool."

They stared at one another, and David soon realized that they had forgotten he was in the room. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "So, what happened?"

Maglor smiled rakishly. "What happened? Well, for an unsinkable ship, it sure as hell sank."

TBC...


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Titanic, April 14, 1912_

Erestor forced his mouth from the throat of the woman. He had waited too long to feed, and he struggled not to drain her dry. He looked down at the woman. The slight wound had already begun to heal. By morning, it would be no more than a bruise. He turned the head toward his and stared into her eyes, just about to alter her memory of the event, when he felt the shuddering impact of the ship with something in the water. Something large.

Finishing his work quickly, the well-dressed vampire then made his way along the dim, dank halls where the Third Class passengers huddled together, fighting the cold in the bowels of the ship. His eyes darted around, seeking his companion. He soon found Maglor bent over the body of a young boy.

"Maglor," he called.

The elder vampire released the limp body, allowing the boy to sprawl across the bed. "Do I interrupt you when you feed?" Maglor demanded, wiping his lips with a handkerchief.

Erestor grabbed Maglor's arm, leaning close. "The ship has struck something. Did you not feel the tremor?"

Maglor chuckled. "This is an unsinkable ship, Erestor. Isn't that what you told me?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I was wrong," Erestor grumbled.

"Indeed not. However, in this case, I think your panic is premature. This ship was designed to survive collision, after all. I am certain that if there is a problem, someone will notify us presently. Now, if you don't mind, I am extraordinarily busy with something and would like to get back to it. And, judging by your pallor, you could do with a little more yourself."

*****

Seattle, 2004

"I didn't go back to feeding, though," Erestor continued. "Something was definitely wrong; I could feel it. I made my way to the first class elevator and up onto the deck. By the time I got there, I could see that many of the first class passengers were beginning to assemble on the deck with their lifejackets. I found the nearest crewman and asked him what the trouble was. He assured me that it was just a precaution, which is exactly what I would expect him to say in the event of a serious catastrophe. So, I rushed back down to find Maglor."

The elder vampire nodded. "By the time Erestor found me, barely half an hour after the collision, the water was already starting to seep across the floor of the third class berths."

"I wanted to wake the passengers; I wanted to have them go up to the deck so that they could also be placed on the lifeboats. But, Maglor pointed out that there _weren't_ enough lifeboats; most of those in steerage were doomed to a cold death." Erestor shifted on the bed, caught up in the memory. "I continued to insist we wake them, give them the opportunity to save themselves, but Maglor told me that the best thing we could do was spend what time we could feeding on those in third class."

Maglor nodded. "Rescue would be a long time in coming, and I figured we would be in that icy water for a while. Erestor didn't like the idea, but in the end, he gorged just as I did. He could not argue with me; we needed the warmth and strength the blood offered us. We moved systematically from the lower to the upper deck of the berths before the water rose high enough to wake anyone. We fed until we were bloated and aching with blood."

"We made it up to the deck around one in the morning. The ship had been taking on water for over an hour and was listing." Erestor sighed. "By that time, though, the lower third class berths were completely flooded, and the upper deck was almost under as well. Over five hundred men, women and children drowned in the icy waters that flooded steerage," Erestor said sadly.

"I would like to say," Erestor began with a shaky voice, "that we fought to have women and children loaded onto those lifeboats, or that we convinced the crew members to fill those precious lifeboats to capacity. The truth is, we didn't. We stayed out of everyone's way, and watched as men took seats that should have gone to screaming children; we saw crewmembers board lifeboats while passengers were left behind. Most of those we saw we knew would die that night."

Maglor spoke up then, grasping Erestor's hand in his own. "Do not mistake inaction for immunity to the suffering we saw that night, David," he said softly. "Our hearts still bleed for those we saw, their fear palpable, knowing that their deaths were imminent. But, had we done anything, we risked revealing ourselves for what we are. The last thing the crew needed was something to incite more panic."

Erestor cleared is throat. "We will spare you the details of those final moments on the RMS Titanic. There is enough history written on that time; picking up a text on the topic can fill in the blanks.

"Once the stern had disappeared under the surface of the water, we were among a throng of passengers that escaped the suction the stern made as it sank. We did our best to save those around us; we helped people onto floating debris and onto damaged lifeboats. Anything to keep them afloat and out of that water."

Maglor moved closer to David, noting the wide, hazel eyes were slightly glazed as he listened to their story. "We remained in the water for over two hours before the Carpathia arrived and began to retrieve the lifeboats. In those two very long hours, David, we listened as the screams of men and women, of children, grew hoarse, and then became silent." Maglor glanced up to Erestor's eyes, which were brimming with unshed tears. "The memories are vivid in our minds, and that silence was deafening."

"We stowed away in the hold of the Carpathia, slowly defrosting in the bowels of the ship, and we allowed our identities to be counted among those who perished in the Atlantic waters that night," Erestor said, thinking back to that dank, but warm, hold.

*****

_Carpathia, April 15, 1912_

"Unsinkable?" Maglor asked.

"That was what the brochure said!" Erestor shot back.

Maglor stripped out of the wet, cold clothing he wore and tore into a nearby steamer trunk, pulling out warmer clothes. "I swear, Erestor, you are determined to have us drown."

Erestor glared at Maglor, pulling dry clothes over his clammy flesh. "Maglor, we're dead. We _can't_ drown."

"Ha. I am sure Ulmo would find some way to see us meet our end," Maglor grumbled, falling heavily to the floor of the hold.

"You could have stayed in Liverpool, Maglor," Erestor said tiredly, sitting next to his lover on the floor.

Maglor shook his head. "No, I couldn't. You emptied the bank account and sold the house."

Erestor grinned up at Maglor. "Aye, I suppose you had no choice but to come with me." Erestor lay back, closing his eyes. "I don't think we should cross west anymore."

"You know we can't help it. The pull is still there, even if the Valar will not admit us." Maglor stretched out next to Erestor. "I heard the crew talking above; the Carpathia is headed for New York."

"At least we will still arrive in New York," Erestor said, cuddling closer to Maglor's body. "The trip wasn't a complete disaster."

"Erestor, the ship sank! It _is_ a complete disaster!" Maglor said, his voice colored with disbelief.

"Well, we still have our health." Erestor chuckled, but there was a hysterical edge to it. He could not allow himself to focus on what he had just witnessed. So much death; he would go mad.

Maglor pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, we don't! We're _dead_!"

"And there is an upside to that, too," Erestor said, forcing a cheerful tone.

The elder vampire sighed. "What is that, Erestor?"

Erestor snorted. "We do have those very lucrative life insurance policies..."

*****

_Seattle, 2004_

The room was quiet as Erestor finished the tale. Maglor continued to watch David, who hadn't moved in all that time. "David?" he asked softly.

"Yes?" the Man asked, blinking several times. "I'm sorry. My God, that was... so vivid!" David shook his head. "Such tragedy."

Erestor nodded. "One thousand five hundred and sixteen people died that night, and our names are counted among them."

"Is that what happened also on the Antonia Doria?" David asked. "The ship left Italy bearing you both west, but never arrived. It simply disappeared."

"What happened to the Antonia Doria was Maglor's fault," Erestor said quickly.

Maglor smacked Erestor's head. "I can hardly be blamed for that!"

"If you can blame me for the sinking of the Titanic, I can blame you for the loss of the Antonia Doria!" Erestor shouted, rubbing the side of his head.

"But, _what_ happened?" David pressed impatiently.

Erestor grimaced. "The story behind the Antonia Doria is not one we like to recall often. It was a mess, and one best left to the ghosts of the sea."

TBC...


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Following World War II, we remained in Europe, aiding in the reconstruction efforts," Maglor said, sipping the coffee Erestor had made. "But, as the years wore on, that pull west began to surface again. When we were idle, it was the worst. In 1965, I booked us passage on the Italian cruise liner the Antonia Doria."

Erestor looked up at David; they had shifted their positions so that Erestor's head now rested in David's lap and Maglor sat in front of them. Erestor was sandwiched between his lovers. "It was a magnificent ship, David. The Italian liners could not compete with the British liners in speed, but they compensated with luxury and opulence."

Maglor nodded. "And while not as large as the Titanic, the Antonia Doria was more than comfortable for a Trans-Atlantic voyage." He put his mug aside. "But, the liner had fallen on hard times by the time we boarded her; she was outclassed by other great Italian liners like the Michelangelo and the Raffaello."

"Although the Antonia Doria could hold almost fourteen hundred passengers, there were less than six hundred of us on that crossing," Erestor said softly. "In those days, the Italian liners took eight, perhaps ten days to cross the Atlantic. In the luxury of the Antonia Doria, though, there was little people wanted for. There were three pools on board, nightly shows in the dining rooms, organized games during the day -- it was structured and lavish at the same time.

"We had a stateroom on the Boat Deck; First Class section, of course. We would travel to the lower decks, typically the B or C decks, to feed from the Third Class passengers. We were careful, though, feeding from several rather than one or two and risk detection. We were at sea no more than three days when the trouble occurred," Erestor said, closing his eyes as David ran his fingers through his hair.

Maglor loosely held Erestor's hands, fingering Glorfindel's ring Erestor had worn since their confrontation about the Elda. "Various crewmembers died. Accidents, really. Two men in one of the boiler rooms were locked in when the boiler was vented. A man tripped and fell over the railing into the water while he was cleaning the deck. One of the female attendants was found at the bottom of a stairwell." Maglor shrugged. "Then they started disappearing. Now, because there were only six hundred of us aboard, they were not sailing with a full crew. By the end of the week, half a dozen more of the crew just went missing. A few of the passengers began to panic and claimed that the ship was cursed."

"While we weren't responsible for any of the deaths," Erestor explained, "there were enough Italian seniors around with enough of a folklore background that they began to suspect us anyway. Two men, traveling together in the same room, never seen in the dining room, but often noticed moving around in the lower class cabins. Some of them began to talk to others about it. It wasn't long before people would turn the other way if they saw us approach, or make 'evil eye' warding gestures as they passed. More and more of them would take special care to lock the doors to their cabins, and never walk along the decks alone. For us, feeding in any capacity became first difficult, then impossible."

Maglor continued, "We didn't know it at the time, but the captain was among those crew who disappeared. A grand mutiny was underway, right under our very noses. The first mate had commandeered the vessel, gathered those loyal to him, and disposed of anyone else. He had been slowly steering the boat south, making small course corrections each day so that it was less noticeable to the passengers. By the tenth day, though, we were moving almost due south, and the change in the position of the sunrise was enough to alert most people that something was wrong.

"The first mate explained to anyone with questions that there was a problem with one of the main engines. No, it was nothing serious, he said, but it required them to follow a different shipping lane that didn't force them to fight against the currents. It shouldn't delay the arrival too much longer, and no, the captain isn't available right now, but I will give him your message.

"By then, of course, it was too late. By dawn on the eleventh day, over a third of the passengers were dead, apparently from food poisoning, and probably half of those left were too ill to leave their beds. Word was circulated throughout the ship that everyone still feeling well was to assemble on the main deck to be checked by the ship's doctor. Erestor and I, having no need for either food or doctors, naturally remained in our cabin."

"If we hadn't, maybe things would have been different," Erestor said, taking over the story.

*****

_Antonia Doria, 1965_

A knock at the cabin door roused the two vampires from their near-slumber. Barely an hour had passed since the order was given for the passengers to assemble, and the two had barely managed to fall asleep again. Grumbling softly, Erestor dragged himself from the warm bed and pulled on a pair of pants.

"Whoever it is," Maglor mumbled, "eat them."

Erestor chuckled. "Hush. It's probably just one of the crewmen wondering why we aren't up on the main deck. I'll tell him to go away." He opened the door and admitted Crewman Salvatore into the sitting room.

"If Sir is feeling well, then Sir should be on the main deck," Salvatore said in Italian.

"We are both feeling fine," Erestor answered, also in Italian. "We did not eat the dinner last night, so there is no need for us to see a doctor."

"But, Sir, the doctor thinks there are more than bad clams involved in this. He wants to give everyone an injection of penicillin just to be safe."

"Ah, there you have it. My companion and I are both allergic to penicillin. It is just as well that we remain here."

"I am afraid," Salvatore said, a sudden sharpness to his voice, "that I cannot allow you to do that." He flicked his right wrist, and Erestor heard the soft sound of metal scraping on metal. As the crewman brought his hand up, the light glinted off the straight razor he held.

For Erestor, the world seemed to slip into slow motion as his vampiric reflexes took over. He stepped into the blow, bringing his arm over Salvatore's and trapping him at the elbow. A small squeeze, and the man's arm snapped like a twig. Salvatore screamed twice before Erestor broke his neck.

Maglor burst through the door from the bedroom. "What the hell is going on?"

"I have no idea," Erestor said slowly. He bent down and picked up the straight razor from the dead man's hand. "Salvatore here just tried to kill me. Something is seriously fucked up on this ship."

"So what else is new?" Maglor groaned as he stepped into his slacks.

Without pausing to put on shirt or shoes, or even tie back their hair, the two vampires stepped into the hallway. The scent of blood was suffocatingly strong. Fresh blood -- gallons of it. But poisoned, undrinkable. Starving as they were, surrounded by the smell of what they craved but could not consume, Maglor and Erestor's senses redoubled in intensity along with the gnawing hunger. Their control hung from a narrow thread.

And then it snapped.

Two crewmen exited the rooms on either side of theirs, both sheathing straight razors. "Everything okay, Salvatore?" one asked before looking up into Maglor's bestial face.

"Everything's fine," Maglor said, stabbing forward with two fingers into the man's throat. The air rushed out through the hole with a pop, followed by a gurgling as blood spurted from the wound. Maglor leaned forward and drank up as much as he could as the body fell, but it was nowhere near enough.

Erestor, meanwhile, had not bothered with pretense but had immediately lashed out for the crewman nearest him. He slashed the throat with the razor, opening his mouth into the spray of vitae. The vampire grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the head back as he fed, but death came too quickly, and he, too, was left unsatisfied.

Two more doors opened farther down the hall. Erestor and Maglor turned and leapt the entire distance, tackling their prey to the ground and tearing into their throats. This was no tender embrace and gentle bite, but an animalistic frenzy of violence. In their hyper-excited state, though, the energy they gained from the blood burned off almost as fast as they could drink. By the time the two crewmen were dead, the vampires felt just as thirsty as when they began.

They sniffed the air. There was no more live blood on the entire deck. Moving as one, they stood and moved swiftly to the stairwell to the lower decks. Their feet barely touched the ground as they descended to C deck, in the bowels of the great ship. Here, the stench of death was even more palpable than above, yet there were also numerous flares of life.

One of those flares appeared directly in front of Maglor, and the elder vampire pulled him in close, breaking both of the man's arms in the process, and sank his fangs into the warm throat.

As Maglor fed, another door opened at the far end of the hallway. The new arrival sighted the vampires and began running toward them, screaming for his crewmates. Doors burst open all along the corridor, and the passageway was soon filled with twenty uniformed crewmembers, all brandishing straight razors dripping blood.

Maglor dropped his latest victim to the ground, and for a moment, all froze in shock, and silence dropped heavily across the mob. Then Erestor howled and plunged into the fray. Two of the men fell in an eyeblink, one slashed across the throat, and the other across the abdomen. Erestor no longer gave any thought to feeding; he merely spun and cut his way through the murderous crew with an almost Florentine flourish. He ripped a second razor from the hand of one of the men as he fell and began dealing death from both sides.

When the last one fell, Erestor turned to look at Maglor across the field of dead and dying. His arms were covered in blood and bile up to the elbow. The ancient Noldo could only stare in disbelief. The entire massacre had played out in less than thirty seconds. Erestor stood panting, spittle dripping from his lips, and his bare chest spattered in blood. Maglor took a deep breath, though the hunger continued to consume him, and he _reached_ out with his mind. He scanned the upper decks and found no life on them. There were flashes of life, but they were moving up, up.

The main deck.

Maglor then directed his thoughts to Erestor. He pushed an image of the main deck into Erestor's blood-frenzied mind, and the younger vampire nodded. They slowly moved up the various stairwells, Maglor's mind constantly searching for prey while Erestor gnashed at the air in animalistic fury.

The two vampires crested the stairs, the main deck spread out before them. There were perhaps six of the crew officers facing one of the elevators, and Maglor could hear the whirr of the wheels. The doors slid open and the six officers opened fire, quickly slaughtering the crewmembers in the elevator.

Erestor sniffed the air, his black eyes scanning the deck. The swimming pool. It was normally bright blue-green, crystalline; now it was ghastly red with limp bodies floating in the chlorinated water. The officers who had killed the crewmen in the elevator returned to the door Erestor knew led onto the bridge of the ship. They would shoot their guns at the steel door, pound on it, and shout at those he could sense cowering from them inside. The door to the stairwell slammed shut as Maglor joined Erestor on the deck, and the mutinous first mate swung around, blindly firing his machine gun.

The two vampires stood impassively, clothed in trousers slick with body fluids, bare torsos spattered with blood and bits of flesh, and eyes as black as the night sky. There were no irises, no pupils, no white -- the eyes were inhuman and the lips were pulled back, baring long, dangerous fangs. The bullets did not slow their advance, and the two leapt over a pile of dead passengers, rushing toward the armed officers.

Erestor easily slashed his clawed hands across one of the men closest to him, killing him immediately, but he was propelled back as one of the other officers shot at him at point blank range with his machine gun.

Maglor glanced at Erestor, and roared his irritation at seeing his lover on his back, sprawled over the deck. He jumped behind the first mate, shielding his body with the man's, and snatched his gun, firing wildly at the remaining men. When they fell in bloody heaps to the floor, Maglor dropped the first mate's bullet-riddled body, panting as he made his way to where Erestor lay dazed.

Erestor snarled, but took Maglor's proffered hand, and stood. They both turned their eyes, glittering like onyx in the moonlight, to the warped bridge door. The cries and screams were easily heard by the vampires; Maglor looked through the small glass window and into the bridge. He could see about a dozen frightened passengers huddled against a far wall. Erestor growled deep in his throat and pushed Maglor away, gripping the steel door. With a primal cry, he ripped the door from its hinges, and tossed the offending metal aside.

The passengers inside the bridge screamed at the sight of the two vampires, and Maglor's ears rang with the sound. "Shut up!" he screamed, and all the passengers stilled, their eyes blank and their faces pale.

Erestor moved around the frozen figures, checking the instruments. "All the radios have been destroyed," he said, his voice deep and guttural, the words obscured slightly by his fangs. "The compass has been shot and the helm is locked."

Maglor closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow, the hunger to recede. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was once again pewter. "Erestor. We do not know where we are, since they have taken us so far off course. There is no way for us to seek help. The passengers will starve to death, and we will go insane with hunger, assuming this ship does not collide with anything Ulmo chooses to raise in its path."

Still lost in his hunger, Erestor regarded Maglor with those glassy black eyes. "What would you suggest we do, Maglor?" he hissed.

"I suggest we offer these passengers a painless death, quenching our hunger. We can overfeed, prepare ourselves for a long wait before we reach civilization." When Erestor did not object, which Maglor was expecting, he turned his burning eyes to an auburn-haired woman still dressed in her lacey nightgown. "Come," he said to her.

He touched her mind, soothing her fears and altering what her eyes saw as she looked upon him. Her name was Lisa, and she was to join her husband in New York. She would never arrive. Her chocolate eyes drooped, becoming lost in an illusion Maglor created for her. She swooned in his arms, her pulse fluttering with arousal as Maglor projected the vision of him laying her on a satin bed, resting himself comfortably between her thighs, and kissing her neck tenderly.

She surrendered completely to the image, the horrors she had witnessed that night fading under the fantasy. He bit her, gentle and sweet, taking care not to pull her from the dream, and she gasped. In the fantasy, he moved inside her, brought her closer and closer to completion with her legs wrapped tightly around his lean waist. As her body shuddered in the vision with orgasm, the body in Maglor's arm trembled on the cusp of death.

He released her neck as her heart ceased beating, and allowed her to slip from his arms. She crumpled in a lifeless heap at his feet, but her blood coursed through his body, warming him. Maglor turned to Erestor and was relieved to see the deep brown orbs surrounded by white once more.

They could only drain two passengers each before they were bloated with blood. "We cannot continue to feed, Maglor," Erestor warned. "I have not felt nauseous in centuries, but if I try to take one more..." he left the sentence unfinished, knowing that Maglor felt the same.

Maglor nodded sadly.

The eight passengers still held under Maglor's sway met swift deaths. Each vampire broke necks, soothing the mortals' minds with visions of peace. As the sun rose, they showered, washing the blood from each other's bodies, both lost in their dark thoughts. They dressed in light clothes and launched one of the lifeboats. The sun was dipping low in the sky by the time they boarded the boat. Maglor began rowing toward the setting sun, toward the west, leaving the bloody halls of the Antonia Doria behind.

TBC...


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

Erestor leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed. He knew Maglor sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the mattress. David, though, was behind the bathroom door.

"Are you certain you don't need any help?" Erestor called.

There was more choking sounds followed by the flush of the toilet. The door opened and David appeared, pale and sick looking. "No, Erestor, I don't think I need help to throw up."

Erestor opened his eyes. "We told you it wasn't a happy ending."

"You didn't tell me it was wholesale slaughter, either!" David cried.

"David, you asked. We told you." Maglor stood up. "I will go make you some ginger tea; it will help to settle your stomach."

"I don't think my stomach will ever be settled again," the mortal mumbled as he collapsed on the bed. He felt Erestor's weight next to him and he gazed up into the soft, dark eyes of his vampiric lover. "Do you regret it?"

Erestor tilted his head. "Regret? No. I regret too many things already."

"But why did they do it?" David asked.

"I have no idea," Erestor said with a shrug and a sigh. "My best guess is that they were planning to pirate the cargo. Those old liners were floating art galleries, and also carried people's entire lives with them sometimes -- cars, clothes, jewelry -- enough for three crews to live on. But I think the officers got greedy. After they ordered the crew to wipe out the passengers below decks, they massacred them as they stepped onto the main deck."

There was a pregnant silence as David thought on the two stories he had just heard. The Antonia Doria sounded _very_ familiar to him. He sat up and glared at Erestor. "You are liars!"

"What?" Erestor asked, taken aback.

"What you just told me was the storyline of Ghost Ship! It's a goddamn movie, Erestor!" David accused.

"That is where it becomes my fault," Maglor said as he entered the room. "I sat beside Mark Hanlon on a transatlantic flight in '98. Bored to tears, we started talking. One thing led to another, and I found myself telling him the tale of the Antonia Doria, but I told it as a fictional legend behind the disappearance of the ship, minus the vampires. Two years ago, I saw the trailer for Ghost Ship. He had changed a lot of the minor details, added some occult twists to it, and ta-da! He had a movie."

Erestor smiled at David. "Maglor is still sore he didn't think to do the same thing."

David chuckled and sipped the spicy sweet tea Maglor had brought him. His eyes slowly dropped, and just as his mug was about to fall from his hands, Erestor caught it.

"You drugged him," Erestor said, smelling the tranquilizers in the liquid.

Maglor nodded, brushing hair out of David's face. "He needs a deep, restful sleep, Erestor."

Erestor nodded, still gazing down at the man. "I love him, Maglor," he confessed quietly.

"I know," was all the reply he received.

*****

When he woke, it was dark out and the moon was high in the sky. He sat up and yawned. He turned his head and screamed. Erestor was naked on the bed next to him, silent and still as he watched him. "Don't _do_ that!" David snapped, placing his hand over his heart. Erestor's eyes did not blink, and David could swear there was a hungry gleam in the vampire's eyes. "Erestor?" he whispered.

"Maglor has gone out until dawn. He needs to feed."

David nodded. "Why didn't you go with him? Don't you need to feed?"

Erestor smiled seductively. "Yes, I do." He licked his lips, those black eyes glittering. "He left you for me."

"Why?" David asked, his heart beginning to race with fear. He did not like the way Erestor's voice sounded.

The vampire pulled the comforter away from David's nude body. David fell back against the pillow, Erestor's face hovering above his, dangerously close. "You would not believe me if I told you," he breathed, drawing his tongue along David's bottom lip.

The human shuddered, arousal and fear warring within him. "I believed you were vampires. I believed you were Elves. Why wouldn't I believe anything else you have to tell me?"

"Do you believe the heart of a creature like me can be moved to feel love?" Erestor asked, nuzzling David's neck.

David trembled, his shaft filling quickly. "Yes," he said breathlessly, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"Then believe that I love you," Erestor said, opening his mouth wide. He clamped down on David's neck, biting deep into the pale throat. Warm blood gushed into his mouth, spicy and coppery. David writhed under Erestor, moaning wantonly as he shared his lifeforce with the vampire.

Erestor pulled back, his lips wet with blood, his teeth long and sharp. David's dilated eyes gazed up at him. The Man reached up, bringing Erestor's savage mouth to his. He tasted blood for a moment, but Erestor lifted his lips from David's. "What?" David panted.

"I want to give you something," Erestor said.

Erestor's tone was different. Was the Elf scared? David simply nodded, trusting Erestor completely. Erestor reached over to the nightstand, taking the lubrication from the table. David watched as Erestor squeezed the cool gel onto his fingertips. Those slick fingers soon found their way into his passage, and David arched against Erestor's lithe body. "Erestor!"

"Yes." Erestor moved his two fingers in and out of David's passage, spreading the gel deep. He then withdrew his fingers and added more lubricant, smearing it along his hard length.

David drew his legs up to his chest, resting his feet on Erestor's shoulders. Erestor pierced him slowly, tenderly, and David whimpered with need. They kissed and touched, with Erestor thrusting in long, measured movements. David's sex was heavy on his belly, aching to be touched. "Is this what you wanted to give me?" he asked, his voice hitching as he was impaled again.

"No," Erestor whispered, kissing David again. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he commanded, and David complied. He lifted David as he sat back so that David was sitting in his lap, Erestor's shaft deeply embedded inside David. The Man mewled, his eyes rolling back in his head, acutely aware of the member stretching his passage. "This is what I want to give you."

David opened dazed eyes and watched as Erestor took his clawed hand and made a deep, but small, incision in his throat. David's gaze flew to Erestor's, fear and worry reflected in them.

"You fear it?" Erestor asked.

David swallowed visibly. "Will I become as you are?"

"No," Erestor said, that seductive smile creeping back onto his lips. "You are not near death, and you will not drink much." Erestor tangled his hands into David's hair, drawing his lips closer to the vibrant splash of red on Erestor's throat.

David's hot lips latched onto the cut and Erestor hissed. Blood was a connection, a conductor, and Erestor opened the channel between his mind and David's. Lust, need, love all flooded into David's mind. He showed David how he saw him, tall and bronze, warm and alive. David's cock pulsed against Erestor's belly, reminding them both that there were other pleasures to share. David lifted himself up as he continued to suckle at Erestor's throat, sitting down forcefully on Erestor's lap.

Erestor moaned, thrusting up into David's tight, velvet heat. He slipped his hand between them and grasped David's erection, his fist moving over the sticky flesh with eager strokes. David's lips left his throat as the Man cried out, throwing his own head back as he moved up and down Erestor's shaft. Erestor struck out, sinking his fangs back into the fresh wounds he had just made.

David bucked in his lap, his seed spilling from his body as he trembled atop Erestor. The vampire continued to push up into the quivering passage, his release just on the horizon. David lifted his head as he was fed from and focused his eyes on the seeping wound on Erestor neck. He grinned tiredly and latched onto the cut again. Erestor's body tensed, and David felt his passage filled with Erestor's fluids. He released Erestor's neck at the same moment Erestor released his, staring down into those huge eyes as they both came down from their orgasmic high.

It was then David noticed something different. He heard Erestor's heartbeat, heard the neighbors as they argued, heard the orders being taken at the diner on the corner! The room should have been near pitch black, forcing him to strain to see, but he could see clearly, yet differently. Colors were muted, but the room was clear to him. He also felt an overwhelming thirst, a painful gnawing in his stomach. He scrambled away from Erestor, panting like a frightened wild animal. "What have you done?" David yelled, his voice filled with panic.

"It will wear off, David," Erestor assured. "It is temporary."

"What is?" David demanded.

Erestor smiled. "You now have an idea what each day is like for us. The sounds, the visions... the hunger," Erestor said, his tongue darting out to lick the last of David's blood from his lips. "But, look beyond the physical, David."

David shook his head. "I don't understand..."

"What do you _feel_ ," Erestor said in a low voice.

The Man fell silent, pondering what Erestor was asking him to do. His body hummed with sexual satisfaction, but he did not think that was what Erestor wanted to hear. Erestor wanted to know what David felt. What did he feel?

"Aching loss..." David whispered, his chest crushed under the sudden weight of the emotion.

Erestor smiled. "That is what it feels like for me each day, lover," the vampire whispered. "But, you ease that ache." He leaned close, kissing David deeply. "Thank you for that."

David looked up at Erestor with shining eyes. "Glorfindel," he said, a tear slipping down his cheek.

TBC...


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

Erestor parked the car and looked up at the apartment building. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Maglor rested a hand on Erestor's thigh. "He needs clothing and necessities, Erestor."

"Yes," David said, stepping out of the car. "I also need to get my mail and check my messages." It had seemed like a lifetime since he had been here, his life before Erestor and Maglor. "Come on. If we hurry, we can still make it to Melindor at a reasonable time!"

The vampires exited the car, chuckling at the child-like enthusiasm David exhibited. Erestor followed the human up the flights of stairs toward his apartment. It had been a week since he had share his blood with the Man, and the effects had worn off a few days ago. It had given the mortal some perspective, and Erestor found that they were all much happier, much more at ease with one another.

Even Maglor had been enjoyable company when in David's presence.

The trio entered the apartment. "Have a seat," David said as he flipped through the bundle of mail waiting for him. "I'll be right back."

Erestor watched David disappear into the bedroom where they had first taken him. He smirked at the memory and turned his sparkling eyes to Maglor.

"You seem happy, melethen," Maglor said, his lips in a grim line.

"Yes, I am," Erestor said. "Why do you not like that?"

Maglor shrugged. "Perhaps I am jealous that he could bring you happiness when I could not."

Erestor leaned in and kissed Maglor softly. "If I had not been happy with you, Maglor, I would have died long ago." He smiled up at Maglor until the elder vampire's lips curved up as well.

"What a lovely sight."

The two vampires parted, their heads turning to the front door. Four men stood, all of varying ages, height and weight. But, just looking at them, Erestor knew who they were. Or rather, he knew who David's father was, and could guess at the rest. In person, the man looked even more imposingly like Elessar. Or maybe it was just the longsword he held at his side.

Erestor sighed. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"No one likes a know-it-all, Vincent," Maglor said, rolling his eyes.

Erestor addressed the group. "You must be Graham. So nice to meet you; we've heard so much about you. And you must be Terry. The resemblance is unmistakable. But I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure of being introduced to you two gentlemen."

David stepped out from the bedroom. "That is Michael, and the young one is Eric."

"Ah, yes," Erestor replied. "Of course."

"And we know who you are, demon," Michael said. "You with your vile, contemptible appetites corrupting and perverting our children!"

"I didn't realize that drinking blood had become such a fad among teens," Maglor said blankly.

"I think he means the homosexuality, Marcus," Erestor muttered.

"Oh, but of course. Because before we came along, same-sex relations did not exist, and would never have come into being without us."

"Besides," David said, half to himself, "in your child's case, you've done quite a good job of corruption and perversion yourself without any help from them."

Maglor looked at David over his shoulder. "Well, you would know better than I, I supp--" He broke off in mid-sentence. David's eyes were enormous and staring at something behind him. Maglor turned his head back and saw Eric standing just in front of him. The boy's arms were outstretched toward Maglor. Looking down, the vampire saw why. At the other end of the arms was a sizable wooden stake, the point of which was currently embedded in Maglor's chest.

"This shirt," he said very slowly, "cost me three hundred dollars." Maglor's hands flew up, grabbing Eric by the chin and hair, and twisted sharply. The crack of the young boy's neck breaking echoed through the room. Eric's lifeless body fell to the floor, the glassy eyes staring at nothing.

The ancient vampire stared coldly at the remaining three faces. "I have survived war, famine, plague, burning, hanging, and only very narrowly avoided crucifixion. I have survived death such as you cannot imagine. And you think I can be harmed by a little piece of wood?"

"Perhaps not," Graham said, narrowing his eyes. "But I'll just bet that taking your head off will do the trick." He raised the sword as Terry drew a pair of daggers and Michael pulled a rapier from the head of his cane. Maglor stared at the cold steel blades and had second thoughts about removing the stake. It was doing far less damage than those could.

David rushed forward, between Erestor and Maglor. "All right, that's enough! What happened to 'observation without interference', Dad?"

" _They_ have interfered, David!" Graham hissed.

"No, they have not! I went to _them_ , remember? I am no longer part of your little coterie, thanks to you, so you cannot even say that they have affected any of you. And had Eric had the sense God gave little green frogs, he'd still be alive, too! Now, dammit, I am your son and these are my lovers. They are good people who just want to be left alone!"

"They are not people!" barked Terry. "They are vampires! They have killed hundreds of people to feed their demonic lusts!"

"Actually," Erestor interrupted casually, "I expect it's more like thousands. I have to say I've lost count, though."

Maglor nodded, the stake still jammed in his chest. "I'd go along with that, yeah."

"The arrogance before God!" Graham cried out. "You are not my son! You are one of them now. My son is dead!"

Erestor took a small step forward. "Then it's done. Just walk away. This city was getting boring anyway. We will leave; you will stay, and there's an end. I know more about your family than you think I do, more than you probably know yourself, and believe me when I say that I do not want to harm you."

Graham swung his sword high, bearing down on Erestor. The vampire brought both his hands up and clapped them on either side of the flat of the blade, trapping it and stopping the strike. Erestor sighed again -- why were mortals always so depressingly stupid? -- and lashed out with a vicious kick to Graham's chest. The force of the blow sent the Man sprawling back, ripping the sword from his grasp. Graham collided against the wall with a hollow thud and slumped to the floor, wounded, but still breathing.

"I said I didn't want to, not that I wouldn't," Erestor said to the unconscious form.

The absurdity of the situation finally overwhelmed David. Maglor stood with a sharpened stick in his chest, Erestor was holding a sword by the blade, and Terry and Michael were stupid enough to advance on them. Fully aware of the vampires' ability to take care of themselves, David obligingly dropped back into the room and continued to sort through his belongings.

Michael brandished the rapier in front of him as he closed with Erestor, while Terry clanged his daggers together and scowled at Maglor. "I will send you back to Hell, demon spawn," Terry spat.

"You know nothing of Hell," Maglor countered. "I once sat through an entire dress rehearsal of Cats."

Michael thrust forward with the rapier. Erestor shifted his hands against the blade he held, swinging the hilt to the side and parrying the blow. Then, while Michael's body was unblocked, Erestor dropped the sword. The hilt fell heavily onto Michael's foot, causing him to yelp. He took his eyes off of Erestor for an instant, and Erestor struck. He grabbed Michael's wrist with one hand and clasped his other hand around the older man's throat. Lifting him easily, Erestor walked forward and slammed Michael against the wall.

"You," Erestor said as he squeezed off Michael's air supply, "mean nothing to me, though. You should never have involved yourself in matters that do not concern you. Now it is too late for you, meldir." Michael's struggles slowly ebbed, and then stopped completely. Erestor released the body, and it crumpled to the ground.

Maglor, meanwhile, was still dealing with Terry. The mortal had managed to open several cuts on the vampire's arms. Being made by a weapon of cold steel, they were painful and would be slow to heal. Maglor had struck out several times, but the Man had been quick enough to evade. Terry was of the same bloodline as David and Graham, of course, and even the tiniest trickle of Númenorean heritage gave him speed and agility in battle to surpass almost any other human. Had Maglor's heart been exposed, Terry surely would have struck it by now.

Erestor leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "Looks like you've got your hands full there, Marcus. Need any help?"

"Does it look like I need help?" Maglor shouted back as he blocked another strike with his forearm and felt the blade cut again into his skin. "No, it does not! I am fine, thank you very much. When I need your help, I'll ask for it!"

"Okay, then. Just let me know." Erestor yawned and began to clean under his nails.

Maglor turned his full attention back to the fight at hand. "Come on, Terry. What do you say we call it a draw and go get a beer? I'm buying."

"Go to Hell, faggot," Terry spat.

"See, now that's just uncalled for. And it makes no sense. I mean, why would you call a homosexual a bundle of sticks?"

David looked up from his packing. "One theory is that it comes from the burning of gays during the Holocaust. It was said that when they went onto the fire, they lit up just like a dry faggot."

"I didn't know that," Maglor said. "Did you know that, Terry? That's really interesting. Let's go have a pint and we can talk about it."

Terry grunted and feinted to the left. Maglor raised his arm to block, but Terry shifted quickly and drove one of the daggers deep into the vampire's stomach.

The pain screamed through Maglor's body like fire. He staggered backward against a chair, leaning against it for support. "Shit," he gasped. "That one's going to leave a mark." Then he slipped from the chair and fell onto his back.

Erestor jumped up, but Maglor weakly held up a hand. "Don't you touch him, Vincent. I have the situation completely under control."

Terry stood over Maglor's prone form, sneering. "I see. That one hurt you, did it? I wonder what one of these would do in your black heart?" He reached down to pull out the stake, but it held fast in the wound. He stepped one foot onto Maglor's chest to brace, and pulled with both hands.

Maglor shook his head. Idiot. He grabbed the handle of the knife in his stomach and, in one smooth motion, tore it from his skin and thrust it brutally upwards into the inside of the exposed thigh. By the time Terry started to scream, Maglor had twisted the knife and pulled it downward, ripping the femoral artery open all the way to the knee. Terry lurched away unsteadily, tripping over Eric's body and collapsing in a bleeding heap.

"Should have just had a pint with me," were the last words he heard.

"Fuck, Maglor, you think you could have made a bigger mess?" Erestor said angrily. In truth, he was relieved, but furious at Maglor for making him worry.

"Yeah, Maglor. This is my _home_ , after all," David said. "Now I'm never going to get my security deposit back. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of carpet?"

"Well, he pissed me off!" Maglor said in a huff. "That fucking hurt!"

Erestor rolled his eyes. "I could have helped."

"I told you, I had it under control! I was just letting him wear himself down. It was the old rope-a-dope, dumbass."

"Which one of you was the dope, I wonder?"

Maglor was about to retort when the sound of movement caught everyone's attention. Graham was beginning to stir.

"At least I killed my two, Erestor!" Maglor taunted.

"Yes, but at least I'm not covered in blood."

"Most of this isn't mine! Valar!" the elder Noldo scoffed, grunting as he finally yanked the stake out of his chest. The sucking wound closed quickly once the makeshift weapon was removed, but some blood still seeped onto his shirt. "Dammit, I'll never get this shirt clean."

Erestor snorted. "I think the blood is the least of your problems."

"Maybe I can just return it?" Maglor said hopefully.

"You monsters!" cried Graham as he pulled himself to his feet and surveyed the damage.

Erestor held up a hand to Maglor. "Hold that thought." He then turned and stalked toward Graham. "Let me get this straight. You barge in to someone else's home, uninvited. You draw lethal weapons and threaten to kill two people who have never done anything to you or anyone you care about. You disown your own son because he had the unmitigated balls to stand up to you. And _we_ are the monsters, simply because we had the gall to not die? I think your last few seconds should be spent trying to think up a reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"Because he's my father, Vincent, and I am asking you not to." David ran to Erestor and put a hand on his shoulder. "No matter what else is true, no matter how big an asshole he's been, he's still my father. Just let him go. We'll go back to his house and destroy all the notes and the histories. He won't be able to follow you without Michael's money funding him anymore. Just let it be over, Vincent. Please."

Maglor limped across the room. "Don't listen to him, Erestor. Right now, he is weak. Destroy him now, or he'll only return stronger. He's a leader of Men, Erestor; don't forget. He'll bring others to his cause, others to fund him and to move against us. He was only curious before, but now he has too much reason to hate. We'll never be safe as long as he lives."

Graham coughed and turned wild eyes to David. "David, don't let them kill me. David, my son, please, help me," he pleaded.

"Now I'm your son again?" David said acidly. "I have asked for your life, which is more than I am convinced you deserve. But I owed you that much. Now it is no longer my choice."

The fear in Graham's eyes shifted instantly to hatred. "You ungrateful son of a bitch!"

Maglor sensed more than saw the motion. His senses were still acute from the fight with Terry, which was more taxing than he would ever admit, to the point where he was almost psychic. There was a minute shift of Graham's hand, and a barely audible click followed by a rustle of something against his sleeve. The vampire was already in motion before the wrist-loaded dagger had emerged from the sheath. He shoved his way between Erestor and David and grabbed David by the shoulders, pushing him back out of the way as Graham thrust the blade forward. He could not get clear in time, though, and the point pierced Maglor's back, near his kidney, until it was buried to the hilt.

"Goddammit, that's twice!" Maglor screamed. "What do I look like to you people, a fucking pincushion?"

Erestor grabbed the outstretched arm and punched into the elbow, shattering the joint without a second thought. Graham clutched at the destroyed bone with his other arm and slid down the wall, whimpering in pain.

"Don't kill him, please!" David yelled over Maglor's shoulder.

"Oh, I won't kill him," Erestor said in a sinister voice. "I just don't think he'll be able to follow us as easily once he's a quadruple amputee."

Maglor gingerly touched the dagger in his back and winced again, his face twisted into a pained snarl. "Wait, Erestor," he managed to say. "I have a better idea. If you only break the body, he will still be who he is, and even if he cannot come himself, he will send others for us. But if we break the mind..."

Erestor looked to David. "What do you say, David? He will be barely recognizable as your father, but he will live."

David sighed heavily and chose his words carefully. "Considering some of the things he has done, said, and believed, it is hard to believe that anything you would do would be anything but an improvement."

"Very well. Maglor, are you strong enough to do this? I may be able to read better than you, but you were always more capable at manipulation."

"I may not be good for much once I'm done, but I can take care of this, yes," Maglor replied. He drew the blade out of his back and dropped it on the floor. He limped over to Graham and knelt down beside him, holding him by the chin and staring into his eyes.

"I know how to do this painlessly," he explained to the fearful, red-rimmed eyes, "but in your case, I think I'll forget that little detail." Maglor focused his power and plunged into the mortal's mind.

Graham screamed once, and then never spoke again.

TBC...


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

_Seattle, 2005_

David put the flowers in the bright cobalt vase, smiling at the man sitting quietly on the bed. Graham Selman's eyes were vacant as he stared ahead, not seeing the scenery outside his window or his son who crouched in front of him. His wife and son had sadly placed him into the convalescent home after the 'accident', and visited him every Sunday after church. Some days there was a glimmer of recognition in the older man's eyes, but today, he was somewhere else.

"Dad," David said softly, smiling up at his father. "Dad, I came to say goodbye," David continued. "It's been a year, hasn't it? I am just as happy now as I was then with Vincent and Marcus, Dad. They love me, and I love them." David stood up. "We are leaving Seattle. Actually, we're leaving the country. Vincent says he would like to see my hair in the Venetian sun, so we have booked a flight to Italy."

Graham's eye twitched, and he focused on David, though his expression remained that of sweet befuddlement. David sighed. "It didn't have to be this way, but you wouldn't let us go. You never could let go, Dad. The investigation about the house fire is complete, and we have been given clearance to leave, which we will do in three days. I wanted to say that I am sorry, but I will not regret what happened. They are free.

"I am free," David finished in a whisper. He blinked back tears and bent down, placing a light kiss on his father's warm, dry cheek. "I love you, Dad. I just wish you could have loved me."

David quickly walked from the room, missing the slow trickle a tear made as it slid down Graham's cheek.

*****

David gazed out over the Grande Canal, smelling the sweet scent of water on the breeze. He didn't even want to think about how much money it had cost Maglor and Erestor to secure such a lavish room so near the canal. He sighed, thinking back once more on the last year.

After Maglor had taken Graham's mind, David had said they would have trouble now that they had the silent man and his three dead companions littering his apartment. Luckily, Erestor and Maglor had extensive experience with disposing of bodies, and assured him it would not be a problem. First, they drained as much of Michael and Eric's blood as they could -- not an easy task without a beating heart to move the blood. In the end, it had required a funnel, some rubber tubing, and gravity to accomplish the feat. Then Maglor had searched the apartment building for other signs of life. Since it was in the middle of a workday, there were only two other people home in the small building.

While Maglor sought out the two other tenants, Erestor wrapped himself in a sheet and got to work on the bodies with a set of butcher knives from David's kitchen and a box of heavy contractor trash bags. With very little blood in any of the bodies, the job was relatively clean. While Graham watched in eerie silence, Erestor efficiently distributed the three corpses among four bags, stuffing the sheet into the last one. Maglor returned from having "coaxed" the elderly couple in the downstairs apartment that they had heard nothing and that a nice long nap sounded like a wonderful idea. While the two vampires lugged the heavy bags down to the trunk of their car, David -- coached by Maglor -- called the police.

Erestor drove away with the catatonic Graham, leaving David and Maglor in the apartment. When the police arrived, Maglor clouded their minds to his presence. They listened impassively to David recounting the story they'd rehearsed; that he was planning to go away with his male lover, who was supposed to be here packing. When he arrived after walking home from work, he'd found the door forced open, this gigantic bloodstain on the floor, and no sign of his lover. The officers were predictably homophobic, Maglor found as he peered into their thoughts. They assured David that they would do everything possible, while secretly not caring about one less queer in the world. One small mental push by Maglor convinced the officers that David had an ironclad alibi and was not to be considered a suspect, and yes, he was free to go.

After the police left, Erestor brought the car back around, and Maglor and David got in and drove to the massive house that Michael, Eric, Terry, and Graham had been using as a base of operations. The vampires emptied the contents of the trash bags in the extensive records room, and then set the room ablaze. David pulled Johnathan Selman's journal out of a safe behind a portrait and tossed it unceremoniously into the fire.

By the time the fire department arrived, the house was fully engulfed in flame, and the only witness appeared to be Graham, wandering around outside in a state of catatonic shock. The final report (as helped along with mental suggestions from Maglor and Erestor) was that the house had caught on fire with three people trapped in the library, and Graham had gone insane trying to get them out and listening to them burn to death.

And then, a year later, once all the investigations had been concluded, Erestor had booked their flight to Italy, hustling David out of the country as soon as he could. That world seemed a lifetime away now, David thought as he breathed deeply again. He closed his eyes and smiled as long, strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Maglor's spicy soap invaded David's senses, and he leaned back into the embrace.

"You seem a thousand miles away," Maglor said hotly against David's ear.

"Good thing you are both here to bring me back," David replied, his voice breathless to his own ears.

Erestor leaned against the railing, admiring his two lovers. "I would suggest we go for a trip along the canal, but every time we turn west, it rains. I think we should simply avoid water as often as we can."

Maglor chuckled. " _Now_ he figures it out."

David laughed as he turned in Maglor's arms, lifting his lips to Maglor's for a kiss. He could feel Erestor's hot gaze on them as they kissed, watching where their lips met and tongues danced.

"We can't stay out here," Erestor said, and his voice was rough with need. "Inside. Now," he growled, pulling at Maglor's shirt.

They stripped their clothing quickly, falling onto the vast bed in a tangle of arms and sucking sounds. David never felt as wanted as he did when he was between the two Elven vampires; their desire for him never waned, and they could take him to heights of pleasure he had never imagined. He was laid on his back, Maglor settling between his thighs, and Erestor's head hovering above his throbbing length. This was also something they did. Neither enjoyed hours of foreplay; they wanted to feel his body writhe under their hands.

As Erestor's lips surrounded David's aching cock, Maglor thrust into the Man's tight heat. David cried out, arching into Maglor's thrust and sinking his length deeper into Erestor's throat. They moved in tandem. As Maglor's length pierced him, Erestor would swallow him to the hilt. He saw bright colors and his muscles trembled as he drew close to orgasm. He felt Erestor's hands wrap around his tight sac, squeezing the base of his cock and the tight muscles just under his pouch. Erestor's mouth continued to suck on him, and Maglor's enthusiastic thrusts pushed him over the edge.

That hand gripped him tighter, and David shook with orgasm, Erestor's mouth moving over his burning length. His body tightened around Maglor and the Elf groaned deep in his throat. The warmth of the elder vampire's seed spread inside his passage, and David gasped as Maglor continued to push inside him. Erestor released David's shaft and sac, and David realized he was still so aroused he ached for release. He looked down into Erestor's grinning face, and then to his still-erect shaft.

"What," he panted, "have you done?"

Maglor slipped from his throbbing backside. "We are not done with you, lover. We have gone so very easy on you this past year, it is time for you to learn just a fraction of our stamina," Maglor said evilly.

David watched with dazed eyes as Erestor and Maglor exchanged places. His eyes focused on Erestor's cock as the vampire grasped his hips, settling him over his thighs. His entrance was already sensitive and sore, but Erestor did not pause and entered him in one swift push. David felt tears spring into his eyes as pain shot through him, but the way was already slick with lubrication and semen.

Maglor's face hovered above his for a moment. "Are you pained, dear David?" he asked, his fangs peeking from between his lips. "Did I use you too roughly?"

It was a sweet pain, one that enflamed his arousal, and David knew it was because Maglor was exerting some of his mental power on him. He was dampening that sharp pain, bringing the pleasure to the forefront, and David welcomed the gesture. He moaned, his mind slowly drowning in a sea of desire.

Erestor glided smoothly in and out of his passage, and David was helpless to the sensations rolling through him. Maglor nipped and suckled at David's nipples until the Man sobbed in sweet agony. The elder vampire's hand slid down to cup him in the same manner Erestor's had, and Erestor increased the power behind his thrusting. With his seed trapped by Maglor's hand, Maglor bent down, sinking his fangs into David's throat.

David bucked up, slamming himself against Erestor as his orgasm swept through him a second time. Maglor's mind, heady with sex, invaded his. He knew instantly how hard Maglor was already, and could glimpse the tortures his body would endure at the vampire's hands long before he would be given that final climax. Tears of frustration slipped down his cheeks as he felt Erestor's essence mingle with Maglor's inside him. Once Maglor had released his neck and his body, David shook with barely contained sexual need. His body quivered in a fever of arousal, and David prayed that it both ended and continued forever.

Maglor's eyes raked over the Man's body. Seed trickled from between the crevice of his backside, causing Maglor's shaft to pulse. David's skin was flushed and slick with sweat. His cock rested heavily on his belly, so engorged that its color was deep plum, and it wept its clear juices continuously. He could sense that David's mind was lost in the storm of their lust, and he licked the remaining blood from his lips. The Man was delicious and strong and like nothing Maglor had ever seen in all his many years.

He took a moment to wipe himself with a damp washcloth, cleaning away semen and lubricant. He tossed the cloth aside and moved to prop David's head on the three thick pillows that littered their bed. Erestor panted as he watched Maglor then straddle David's chest, feeding his thick shaft to the Man. Erestor shuddered, his arousal reawakening. He saw the slick flesh move between those swollen, red lips, and David's glazed hazel eyes stared up at Maglor with adoration. Erestor stretched out on the mattress between David's legs, guiding them over his shoulders. He snaked his tongue out, running the wet, hot muscle over David's abused opening. He tasted the bitterness of seed, but it was a welcome flavor he savored as he thrust his tongue into David's body.

David whimpered around Maglor's length, his jaw aching, his throat sore, and backside once again spread open. As he swallowed Maglor's cock over and over, he rode Erestor's tongue; his length throbbed incessantly, and he fisted his hands into the sheets to stop himself from reaching for his shaft and stroking it. He focused on Maglor's face instead. The pale flesh was bright with blood, his lips parted and glistening. His head was thrown back, his dark hair cascading down his back in a black waterfall. Maglor was dark beauty, and it made David's heart ache with the love he felt for the vampire.

Erestor left David's passage, nuzzling the soft flesh of David's inner thigh. He used his hand to stop David's seed from coming forth as he bit deeply into the Man's thigh. He had found that, from the simple act of their bite, David could quickly find release. As he drank from the human, merging their minds as Maglor had earlier, David's body quaked with orgasm. Erestor knew the climaxes he found in this manner were enjoyable, but they were also somewhat hollow. There was an unsatisfied twinge left in their wake, which made one desire completion even more.

Maglor saw David's eyes flutter and felt the Man's body tremble under him. The waves of arousal beat against him, both his own, Erestor's and David's, and Maglor spilled himself down David's throat, closing his eyes as David's drank all he had to give. This one was special. Maglor had not admitted it, and he was not sure he ever would, but he did love the human. Damn him, he loved David.

Maglor moved off of David's chest, and the two vampires allowed David a moment to catch his breath.

"Please," David sobbed, squirming as Erestor slithered up his body. "Please." The tears would not stop, and his body was tight as a bowstring. He needed to come, and he was not beneath begging his lovers to give that to him.

Erestor ran his tongue over David's bottom lip, tasting Maglor's essence on it. "You want something, David?" he purred, his body hard and ready again. David's lower body was lifted, and Erestor knew Maglor was placing a pillow under David's buttocks.

After the pillow was in place, David felt his legs pressed forward, but not far. Then there was the nudging of the blunt, rounded head of Maglor's arousal. David whimpered, looking up into Erestor's dark gaze. "Please, no," he whispered.

"Oh, David, David, my poor David," Erestor cooed. "Be a good boy and enjoy what we do." Erestor felt David's body arc under his weight as Maglor penetrated him again.

The rhythm was slow, gentle and tender, but it did not change the fact that his backside _hurt_ , that his cock _hurt_. He cried openly, sobbing with pained need. Because his vision was so blurred by his tears and all his attention was focused on the shaft piercing him, he did not see Erestor slip a lubricated finger into his own passage. What he did feel, though, was the cold gel as it was smeared on his length.

As Maglor continued to thrust into David's body, Erestor mounted the Man, guiding the searing, over-engorged organ into him. He groaned as he sat down, watching David's face as he slowly rocked against him. David had never asked to take Maglor or Erestor, but Erestor had wanted to feel the man inside him. This was the perfect opportunity.

Maglor reached around Erestor's waist and grasped the younger vampire's erection. Thrusting, grinding, and stroking. It did not take long before David screamed his release. There was no other word for what the Man did. He screamed as his seed exploded from his frustrated body, pumping deep into Erestor. Erestor's head fell back onto Maglor's shoulder as his orgasm shuddered through him, and David's clenching body dragged Maglor behind them.

In the warm summer heat, the three bodies separated, and David gave a wordless complaint as he shifted between the two vampires. His body burned. His backside ached terribly and his sac was so tender he wondered if he would ever come again. "You two," he said, his voice rough from use, "are a menace."

Erestor chuckled, kissing David's shoulder and hugging him close, nestling his spent member in the cleft of David's buttocks. "Did you not like it?" Erestor watched David snuggle against Maglor's chest, their hands lacing between them. Erestor smiled, pleased to see the affection between his lovers. It was finally more than just sex for Maglor, and the younger vampire was relieved by this development.

David's head swam with exhaustion as he spoke. "Ask me tomorrow when I try to stand," he managed before sleep claimed him.

TBC...


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Prague, 2011_

David sat in the plush armchair, flipping through the pages of a very thick scrapbook. It had been six years since he had left the United Sates. Seven years since meeting the vampires.

The pictures in the scrapbook showed various travels the threesome had taken. Erestor wanted to show David the world, so long as they always moved east. So, they had traveled to China, Russia, and Japan; David had seen great monuments, stood on holy ground, and walk paths he had never dreamed he would walk.

And at every turn, Maglor and Erestor had been with him. They had delighted in his youthful exuberance. The vampires loved to spoil him, to show him off wherever they went. David had never felt as happy and content as he did with them, and he hope that an end never came to that bliss.

Six month ago, Erestor had asked to go to Prague. After sharing that moment with David in the quiet of Erestor and Maglor's apartment where David had tasted Erestor's blood, Erestor had told David the story of Glorfindel. David had known some of it from that merging of their beings, but the whole story had torn at David's heart. To see Erestor's tears, to feel such loss and yearning was more than David could handle. He had been ill for days with depression, and when Erestor had asked to return to the last city he and Glorfindel had been happy in, neither David nor Maglor could refuse him.

A knocking sound shook David from his memories. He stood up, puzzled, and walked to the door. They weren't expecting anyone, and people rarely dropped by this far off the main road. He opened the door, and his mouth fell open. Even if the man were not wearing a pure white riding cloak and carrying a tall white staff, David would have recognized him. "Hey, guys," he called back over his shoulder, "there's a wizard here to see you."

"Greetings," said Gandalf the White.

David opened his mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out was "Guh--" before he passed out.

Gandalf looked down at the prone form. "Hmm. What a curious custom. A pleasure to meet you, too, young sir," he called down to David, and then let his eyes roll back in his head and his legs wobble out from under him in a perfect imitation of David's faint.

Maglor and Erestor ran into the room and found the two figures lying on the ground. Erestor ran quickly to David, patting his face and trying to coax him awake. Maglor, meanwhile, walked over to Gandalf and looked down at him with a heavy sigh.

"Get up, old man," the elder Noldo teased, nudging Gandalf's foot with his toe.

"I was merely trying to be polite," Gandalf huffed up at him from the floor.

Erestor scoffed as he picked David up from the floor. "Next time, try flowers."

*****

Erestor closed the door to their room, leaving David in the peaceful gloom of the bedroom. This seemed to be a terrible habit of David's; the mortal had not fainted in many years, but the sight of Gandalf seemed enough to reawake those habits of his. He joined Maglor on the sofa, staring at Gandalf from across the room.

"You have a human lover?" Gandalf asked Erestor.

"No," Erestor said. " _We_ have a human lover. And his name is David."

Gandalf sipped the tea Maglor had made him. "What do you plan on doing with him? He will age, you will not."

Maglor seemed to bristle at Gandalf's tone. "Do with him? He is our partner, our lover, and whatever we do, we do together."

"Be that as it may, he will still grow old and die." Gandalf put his tea aside.

Erestor chose to ignore Gandalf's comments about David. "What I want to know, Wizard, is what you are doing here?"

"I come on behalf of the Valar," Gandalf said, meeting Erestor's steady gaze. "They have decreed you may come home."

The room was silent except for the occasional crackle or pop in the hearth. It was Maglor who found his voice first.

"Home... to what?" he asked hesitantly.

"Home. Aman. Valinor," Gandalf said slowly, as if speaking to idiots.

Erestor glared at Gandalf. "Not _where_ , you senile old fool, but to _what_?"

The Maia's gaze was cold, but before he could say anything, Maglor tried to diffuse the situation.

"Home to eternal bodiless torment in the Halls of Mandos? Home to an even worse sentence than this bloody half-life? Have the Valar decided we're enjoying ourselves too much, that we have found some measure of happiness that they wish to snatch from us?" he asked, his voice quickly gaining an edge with each word. "Tell us, Gandalf, what fate are we to now endure?"

"You do not have to return with me. But, heed me, this will be your only chance of returning to the Blessed Realm. The opportunity will never again arise for you to leave this time, this world. I cannot tell you what awaits you in Aman for you. I do not know. I have been told to come to you, offer you this chance, but I cannot force you to join me." Gandalf smiled sadly. "But, I do know there are many who were most pleased to hear that the Valar would extend this invitation to you both."

Erestor paled. "Glorfindel," he whispered.

"Your love still waits for you, yes," Gandalf confided. "He bears your ring, does he not?" the wizard asked, smiling wistfully.

Both Erestor and Maglor's gazes went to the golden ring Erestor wore on his left ring finger. It was the only piece of jewelry he wore, and it had not been removed from his hand in almost eight years. While Glorfindel wore Erestor's mark, Erestor wore Glorfindel's.

"Has he taken a lover?" Erestor did not want to know if any other had touched his beloved, but there was a sick curiosity he had to satisfy.

Gandalf shook his head. "Golden Glorfindel is chaste."

Guilt shot through Erestor. While Glorfindel had waited for him, Erestor had partaken of hundreds of lovers. Had even dared to _love_ one of them. During the years he had lived with Glorfindel, he had not shared his body with anyone but the golden Elf. As soon as Glorfindel sailed, though, he had returned to the warmth of Maglor's bed and a never-ending stream of willing bodies.

He was ashamed.

"I cannot return," he choked out, shaking his head. He stood up and fled the room, closing the door behind him as he entered the gloom of their bedroom. David lay sleeping quietly, the gentle breathing soothing Erestor's troubled soul.

Soul. Ha. Did he even have one of those? With his back braced against the door, he slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Oh, to go back, to know Glorfindel's love and touch once more. But, to do so would mean admitting his sins... as well as leaving his dear David behind.

Could he truly do that?

*****

His eyes were dry. They itched. But still he stared at the horizon. The sun was rising over the city, and Erestor had spent the night on the balcony outside their bedroom. David had not stirred, and Maglor had not come to him. Alone with his guilt, Erestor had retreated to the balcony to sob freely.

"Erestor?"

Erestor looked up at Maglor's tall form towering over him. "Yes?"

Maglor sat down beside him, the first rays of light kissing their faces. "Gandalf is not leaving yet. We have time to decide," he said quietly.

"There is nothing to decide," Erestor replied tiredly.

"Erestor, for a moment, pretend there is no David. Ah, just pretend," he said when Erestor tried to protest. "Would you still refuse to return with Gandalf?"

The younger vampire thought until the sun was bright in the morning sky. "No, I would return. I want to see Glorfindel again."

"And I would give my life to just _glimpse_ Maedhros once more. I will go with Gandalf. Please, come with us. I love you, Erestor. I have for so long, and it would break my heart to gain Aman only to lose you in the process." Maglor held Erestor's hand in his, kissing each fingertip.

Erestor's eyes filled with tears once more. "But I cannot forget him, Maglor. I love him, just as I love you."

"You would sacrifice Aman for him? You would sacrifice me, Glorfindel, for him?" Maglor asked.

"Do you not care? Are you still just as cold and jealous of him as you were when I brought him home?" Erestor gripped Maglor's hand tightly.

Maglor lifted his head, and Erestor saw the shimmer of tears. "I love him, Erestor. But, he is human. He will _die_. And we will be left alone again."

"Do not stay because of me," David said from behind them, his voice trembling as he spoke.

Both vampires turned to the Man, their eyes wide and full of shame at being caught speaking about him.

"David," Maglor tried, but David shook his head.

"No, do not try and justify your reasons," he said as tears traced tracks down his cheeks. "You should go home."

Maglor stood, taking David into his arms. "We could ease your heartbreak," he whispered. "I could take the memories from you."

David pulled away at the same time Erestor cried out. "No!" David yelled angrily. "They are _my_ memories, and they are all that will ease my heartbreak!"

"We would never take your memories," Erestor said, kissing David's lips. "Never. They are yours."

David clung to them, some part of him dying in the wake of this news. He would lose them. Forever. It would not be him leaving them behind; they were leaving him. Oh, how his chest hurt! The words his lovers whispered to him did nothing to soothe his pain, and he soon sobbed himself into a restless slumber in Maglor's arms.

The Elves tucked him into bed, each wiping at their tears.

"We cannot leave him," Maglor said, his voice full of determination.

Erestor nodded. "No, we can't."

"There is only one choice," Maglor sighed.

Again, Erestor nodded. "He will simply have to come with us."

TBC...


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

_Brest, France, 2011_

"Gandalf! Be reasonable!" Erestor cried.

The Maia looked up at the irate vampire from his position on the loveseat beside Maglor. "My dear boy, I am never anything else."

Maglor shook his head. This was a never-ending argument. It had begun in Prague, and was carried on through their travels to Brest. Erestor and Maglor fought to bring David with them to Aman, and Gandalf continued to say it was an impossibility.

The Fëanorion knew better, though. It was possible.

"He is of Men," Gandalf continued.

Erestor shook his head. "He is a descendant of Elessar, Gandalf. He is a Númenorean! He is no mere Man!" Erestor's voice was rising, his anger beginning to surface. It was one thing for the younger Noldo to be irritated, it was another when he became angry.

Gandalf held out his hand. "That, my boy, is precisely my point! The Valar have banned the travel of the Númenoreans to Aman. They had very good cause at the time, and they see no reason to amend that decision!" Gandalf managed to be intimidating in a pair of jeans and one of Maglor's old t-shirts that said 'It's only kinky the first time'. David had found it immensely amusing when the Wizard appeared wearing the shirt.

Gandalf still didn't know what 'kinky' meant. Which was probably just as well, Maglor mused as the argument raged on.

"And how many Númenoreans have sought entrance to Aman recently?" Erestor demanded as he glared down at Gandalf.

"Time is running out, Erestor. The ship will depart without us. The time for debate is over." Gandalf's eyes narrowed, and his voice darkened. "He will sail with us in two days' time, but understand this: If the Valar do not want him in the Blessed Realm, there is no sending him back."

Erestor crossed his arms, turning his gaze to David's wide eyes. "Do you agree to risk it, melethron?" he asked. "Will you sail with us in the hopes that the Valar will permit you entrance and not send your soul on to where the souls of Men reside?"

Maglor felt David's body tense between his legs. The Man had been seated on the floor, nestled safely between Maglor's thighs with his head resting on the elder vampire's knee. Maglor ran his fingers through David's thick hair, which the mortal had permitted to grow long over the passing years. There was a soft wave to the honey locks, and Maglor never tired of touching them. "David," he said softly, and the Man looked up at him. "You can tell us no. You can stay here when we leave."

"My choices," David said slowly, "are stay here without you, or sail with the _chance_ of having you." His hazel eyes were so warm as he gazed up at the grey-eyed vampire; love shown in their depths. "If I remain here, I will be alone and will eventually die. But, I will live and die without either of you at my side. My mother and sisters are lost without my father, and they have cut me from their lives. I am nothing but a fag to them. I have given up all I had in order to be at your sides. I would give up my life if it gave me just a fraction of an hour longer."

Erestor was kneeling beside David on the floor in a blur of motion David didn't even see. One moment Erestor was across the room, the next those dark eyes were in front of his. Erestor's arms slipped around him, drawing him into an embrace between Maglor's legs. There was a sense of relief among the three lovers as Gandalf stood with a sigh, shaking his head as he left the room.

*****

Erestor and Maglor were not surprised to see the grey ship. "Has Círdan been floating here for the past month, Gandalf?" Erestor asked, setting down David's suitcase. The Man had insisted on bringing two suitcases, but would not carry them himself.

Gandalf shrugged. "He has been here this whole time, but he has not been unoccupied."

Maglor tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Just board the ship. The three of you have delayed us long enough." Gandalf stepped aboard, disappearing below the deck where the vampires were sure Círdan would be.

"He seems slightly unhappy," David muttered as he followed his lovers onto the modest sized ship.

Erestor chuckled. "Gandalf hates losing."

"I was not aware he had lost something," David said as they stepped below deck, too.

Maglor looked over his shoulder, winking at the Man. "You are here, beloved. He has lost."

David's cheeks colored. "Oh," was all he said as they entered the main living area of the ship.

What had occupied Círdan's time was obvious the moment the trio gazed around the room. Every surface available had a differed 3-D puzzle of a ship on it, all in various sizes and styles. The shipwright was bent over the small table near the back of the room, placing what looked like the last piece to another 3-D ship. David craned his neck around the group, reading the name of the ship Círdan had just completed.

"RMS Titanic," he quoted.

Círdan lifted his head, a smile crossing his bearded face as he looked upon the wayward Elves. Erestor leaned closer to the puzzle ship, and suddenly the puzzle split in half -- the bow separating from the stern. Erestor and Círdan's eyes met, and Erestor blushed under the scrutinizing gaze.

"See?" Maglor laughed. "It _was_ your fault!"

David never saw the strike Erestor delivered that sent Maglor to the floor, the elder vampire gripping his abdomen.

*****

They could not have been at sea more than three days. No more than that, David thought, as he mounted the stairs up to the deck where Erestor called for him from. They could not have possibly arrived in this fabled land already!

Erestor stood on the bow of the ship, his hand in Maglor's, staring out over the calm ocean. David joined them, and the two vampires shifted so that the Man stood between them, their hands laced together behind his back. The view was obscured by dense fog, and David did not know what his lovers kept looking for.

The fog parted as he gazed with Erestor and Maglor, and David's breath caught in his throat. Glittering white, tall towers and large mountains sprawled along the horizon. David's heart began to race the close they came to those white shores. "Oh, my," he breathed.

"Home," Erestor said, his voice thick with emotion. David turned his eyes to the younger vampire. Tears fell steadily from Erestor's eyes, the proud chin trembling with the effort he put forth to restrain the sob David knew was building in his chest.

"Aye," Maglor whispered. "We're home, melethen mi dúath." David saw the tears mirrored on Maglor's face, that same tension as the elder of the two tried to remain somewhat composed. _(my lover in darkness)_

They were joined by Círdan and Gandalf the closer they came to the port. The ship floated under a great arch, toward docks where white ships were lashed.

"It is the Swanhaven," Maglor said to David. "It is here that my hands were first sullied with the blood of my kin." The regret and sadness David heard in the words brought tears to his own eyes.

Gandalf's hand came to rest on Maglor's shoulder. "Those are wounds of the past, son of Fëanor. Those transgressions were long ago forgiven."

Bitterness seeped into Maglor's tone. "Were they, old man? I don't think so. No, had they been forgiven, Erestor and I would have returned millennia ago."

The hand dropped away, and David almost felt sorry for the Wizard. But, he knew Maglor was right. He had listened enough over the past month to know that the two vampires were only allowed back because the Valar had grown tired of the pleas. They were not forgiven; the gods were just tired of being annoyed.

Their bodies were jostled as they settled into dock, and Círdan tied off the ship before announcing they could exit the deck. Maglor and Erestor each took one of David's suitcases, while the Man nervously wrung his hands. There was a small crowd gathered near the docks; perhaps a hundred Elves had come to see the last arrivals to these shores.

David knew how odd they must look to these Elves. Where Círdan and Gandalf had changed into robes, the three lovers had remained in their modern clothing. Maglor was the epitome of gothic beauty in a crimson silk dress shirt, the sleeves cinching at his wrist, and his legs clad in tight, smooth black leather. Black boots crept up his calves and his hair was wild and sea-blown.

Erestor was dark and fell looking, his hair just as free as Maglor's. He wore black jeans that hugged every curve of his backside and showed off his groin to the best advantage. He wore a shirt much like Maglor's, but his was black with silver embroidery. He also wore black boots, but his were hidden under the fabric of his jeans.

But, he, the mortal, the odd one out, was the one most eyes fell on. He was a Man. He was different. David had soft honey-brown hair that curled slightly as it grew longer. The tresses now reached to the middle of his back, but he tended to keep it gathered in a ponytail. He wore simple faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his hazel eyes downcast as they marched from the wharf.

It took them the better part of the day to march from Alqualondë to the base of Taniquetil, and David's nerves were frayed. Erestor held onto his hand, occasionally whispering encouraging words to his lover along the journey. When they reached the base of the mountain, David's eyes widened as he gazed up the long, long line of stairs leading to the summit.

"You got to be fucking kidding me," he gasped.

Erestor nuzzled David's cheek. "Do not worry so, melethen. The home of Manwë, King of the Valar, resides at the peak. The Valar are convened there; they await us."

"I repeat," David said, "you have got to be fucking kidding me! I cannot climb all those stairs!"

Maglor kissed David softly, ignoring the eyes of the Elves who had followed them. "If you drank from one of us, you would have the stamina to climb. Do you want that?"

David nodded.

"Which one of us, David?" Erestor purred. The three lovers forgot their audience as they engaged in a well-practiced dance. Erestor dropped the suitcase he carried to come stand behind David while Maglor set his suitcase down and pressed his chest to David's. The Man's face and neck were flushed in greedy anticipation.

"I want to taste you, Maglor," David breathed.

Maglor smiled, his pewter eyes darkening like the sky before a storm. "Then you shall."

David cried out sharply as Erestor bit into his throat, his blood rushing into the vampire's eager mouth. Through heavy-lidded eyes, David watched Maglor cut the flesh at the base of his neck. He leaned forward; David's lips latched over the wound and he sucked eagerly. The world fell away as they shared a bond far deeper than that of lovers, tasting each other, hearing their thoughts, knowing their souls.

When they parted, David was gasping with the power surging through him. Maglor lapped at the twin marks on David's throat, and Erestor suckled at the blood remaining on David's lips. They parted, and it was only then that they remembered the Elves around them. The Eldar gazed in disgusted interest, and David could scent their arousal, their fear at what they had just witnessed. The trio laughed as they mounted the stairs. David was drunk on the power of Maglor's blood rushing through him, and the trek to Manwë's throne did not physically tax him as much as it normally would have.

The outdoor meeting area Gandalf led them to housed only two thrones. Seated in one of those thrones was an Elf with eyes as blue as the sky, full of wisdom and mercy. His hair was a sheet of gold, flowing over his dark blue robes, glittering in the late afternoon sunlight. Beside him was a woman whose eyes were as black and bottomless as the night sky, but there was a glimmer in the inky pools that reminded David of the first star of night. Her hair was also black, shimmering like a raven's wing, tumbling in thick curls over her deep violet dress. Gandalf knelt before the two seated figures, but Erestor and Maglor did not. Because his lovers did not bow to these stately figures, David did not either.

His hazel eyes swung around the room and he noticed others standing near those thrones. Each was more beautiful than the last, all frightening in the depths their eyes showed.

These were the Valar. These beings helped bring this world into being. David felt faint.

"I have brought them as you asked, my Lord, my Lady," Gandalf said.

The male nodded once. "Thank you, Olórin, but you have not only brought back our headstrong minstrel and our brave warrior, but a third. A third who should not be here."

There was a tremor in that voice, one of frightful power, and David cowered between Erestor and Maglor.

"They would not come unless they brought the Man. You said to do whatever was necessary to bring them to you, and bringing the Man was necessary," Gandalf said, still on bended knee before these beings.

"Why have you brought a descendant of the great kingdom of Númenor to these shores, son of Feanáro; son of Huoro?" the dark-eyed female asked. Though her voice was just as even and soft as the male's, there was an edge to it that made David fear her.

It was Maglor who spoke, and David admired his lover's gall in the face of such old, deep power. "He is our companion. We would not leave him to a lonely fate when he has given all up for his love of us. If we came, he came. Gandalf insisted we return to your lands, and our price was David."

"You are not in a position to be bargaining," a new voice warned. David saw another dark-haired being, in the shape of an Elf, step forward. It was obviously male, and his eyes were blue, but an icy, almost white, blue. He was clothed in black, and David sensed an air of death around him.

Maglor snarled at this new male. "You stay out of this."

"Why have you had us come, Manwë?" Erestor asked the male on the throne quietly, his hand still entwined with David's.

Manwë's lips curved up oh so slightly. "Since your golden warrior set foot on these shores, he has remained at my doorstep. He has begged and pleaded; he has cajoled and raved. No one in Aman was given a moment's respite, especially once he enlisted the aid of another on your behalf."

"You have served your sentence, Kanafinwë. You have learned your lessons," the female finished for her king.

Maglor actually spat. "I have learned nothing but contempt for this land and those who dwell in it! You left us in a world we could not be fully a part of, yet could not leave. You were sadistic and cruel and only now lift your ban because you are tired of Glorfindel's whining!" he cried.

"Kanafinwë!" Erestor hissed, grabbing Maglor's hand and drawing him close. "Do not anger them, melethen. Please, do not have us cast from our home once more."

Something inside Maglor broke with Erestor's words. Erestor's voice trembled and his eyes had filled with tears. Maglor cupped Erestor's cheek tenderly. "I love you, Sangië," he said, using a name for Erestor David had never heard before.

Erestor nodded. "I love you, Kanafinwë. Let it die its death, as we should have so long ago. We are home."

Maglor kissed Erestor once, softly, before facing the Valar again. "It is over?" he asked.

Manwë nodded. "It is over."

Erestor fell to his knees, pulling David with him, and the vampire gasped, clutching at his chest. David looked up and saw that Maglor was on the floor as well. "Erestor?" he asked, panic creeping around his heart.

His two lovers took many moments to compose themselves, and when Erestor met David's eyes, there were huge tears slipping down Erestor's cheeks. "David," he whispered raggedly. "It _is_ over."

Maglor crawled over to his lovers, grasping their hands. Erestor took David's other hand, completing the circle. It was then David understood.

"You are alive!" he breathed. The Elves gazed at him through tears, smiles on their faces and laughed welling in their throats. "You're alive!" David cried gleefully.

Erestor dived forward, capturing David's mouth in a deep, searching kiss. When Erestor had ravaged his mouth, Maglor teased David's swollen lips, dipping his tongue into the Man's mouth. When David was panting, hard, and needy, the two Elves pulled back from him. "Why did you do that?" he asked dazedly.

"That was the first time we have tasted _you_ , David," Maglor said, smoothing the hair back from David's face. "Nothing but you. No blood, no lust, no power. Just the sweetness of you."

"Erestor?"

Erestor's body became deathly still. David looked over Erestor's shoulder to see a tall, beautiful Elf step from the shadows. Hair as golden as the sun shone in the dying light of the day, and eyes blue as a spring sky shimmered with unshed tears. He wore a simple tunic and leggings, well-worn brown boots on his feet, but the Elf was dazzling to David's eyes. He recognized the Elf from the visions Erestor had shared with him through their blood bond.

"Erestor?" the golden Elf called again. "Will you not look upon me, my lost love?" he asked, still walking toward the kneeling trio.

David saw a tremor run through Erestor's body, but the Elf still did not turn to greet his love.

"Have you forgotten me, my love? For I have not forgotten you," the golden Elf continued, the tears now spilling from his eyes. "I never forgot you. I gave my word, and I never gave up."

A strangled cry fell from Erestor’s lips and he leapt to his feet, spinning to face the taller Elf now that he was only a few steps away. They just gazed at each other, tears falling unnoticed, until Erestor let out a deep, body-shaking sob and flung himself into the blond's arms.

"Glorfindel!" Erestor wept in the arms he had thought he would never feel again. He could not stop the tears, could not stop the sobs, and could not stop saying his lover's name again and again.

Glorfindel stroked Erestor's raven tresses. They slowly fell to the ground, Erestor all but crawling into Glorfindel's lap, begging the Elf to never leave his side again.

"Never, Erestor," Glorfindel said, pulling away enough to see Erestor's face. "Never." He bent his head then and kissed Erestor's warm, sweet lips for the first time in centuries, but the kiss did not last as Erestor began to sob uncontrollably once more.

David realized he was crying with Erestor, but then he laughed, still grasping Maglor's hand. There was a dark shadow in Maglor's eyes, and that was when the pain of the situation dawned on David. Erestor was Glorfindel's. Their happy threesome was broken. What would he and Maglor do now?

Another Elf with hair a rich auburn then appeared behind Glorfindel and Erestor. "Cáno?" he called.

Maglor shook his head, slowly crawling away from the newcomer. "No," he choked out. "No!" He turned his angry, frightened eyes to Manwë and his queen. "Do not torment me with him! You have already torn my soul from me, have made me no more than an animal, do not shred what little is left of my heart!" he begged.

The redhead reached out, snatching Maglor into an embrace. "You would send me away after all the years I came with Glorfindel to make them bring you back to me, Cáno? Do you hate me so much that you would prefer me dead?"

Maglor kept whispering 'no', his eyes wide and unseeing.

"Please, forgive me, my brother, for bringing that curse upon you and then leaving your side. I was mad with grief and I made a rash decision. A decision I have regretted for millennia. Do not shun me now, please, Cáno, do not shun me."

"Russandol," Maglor said. "It cannot be you."

"Aye, 'tis me, brother." Maedhros sat back on his heels. "'Tis me, lover."

Maglor recoiled, his eyes darting to the seated Valar. He would have remained frozen like that if his brother did not turn his face back to him, leaning in and kissing his slightly parted lips. "We can be together," Maedhros breathed into Maglor's mouth before slipping his tongue inside. Maglor whimpered at the gentle touch, and Maedhros withdrew, cradling his younger brother against his breast. "You are home, Cáno," he whispered.

"Home, Russandol," Maglor whispered, closing his eyes and listening to his brother's strong, steady heartbeat. "Home."

David shifted uncomfortably, alone between the reunited couples. He was now regretting leaving with his lovers. He was just as alone now as he would have been, only now he was in a strange land with no one like himself. David hugged himself, fighting the urge to cry. He had made the choice, now he had to live with it.

"David, son of Graham," Manwë called, drawing attention to the lone Man. "This is not your land."

Erestor squirmed out of Glorfindel's arms, coming to stand beside David. "This is now his land. I ask for him to share Tuor's fate; I ask for him to reside among the Eldar, among those whose lives are bound to the life of Arda."

"Why should we grant your request?" the dark haired, light-eyed being asked, walking close to Erestor and David.

Maglor stood as well. "Because, Námo, Erestor shared our curse. He has suffered punishment for a crime he was not guilty of. His grievances must be redressed. He asks for David's life in Aman."

Manwë lifted a hand, silencing everyone. Those wise sapphire eyes pierced David. "You would be bound as they are to the life of Arda. Ageless in this land. Or we can send you home and you will wake in your bed, believing this all a dream. What do you say, David, son of Graham? Do you desire to live among the Elves in our land of peace?"

David looked from Maglor to Erestor, his mind spinning with questions, with fears, with doubts. But, when it was all said and done, what exactly did he have to wake up to in his bed? Nothing. No one. He lifted his warm hazel eyes, squarely meeting the King of the Valar's. "What the hell," he said, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

TBC...


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_Aman, 2011_

Maedhros' hand on Maglor's was tight, as if the elder expected the younger to disappear if he let go. He dragged Maglor into the large, airy room, cupping his face between his hands, kissing Maglor with feverish need. Clothing was torn from bodies as hands touched and stroked flesh long ago memorized.

Maglor fell onto the crisp sheets, the scent of salt air clinging to the fabric. Maedhros had changed the linens, it seemed, before bringing his brother home. Maglor did not smell the spicy cinnamon he had come to associate with his brother on the sheets. His thoughts were cut short as Maedhros' lean, long body pressed against his, the redhead's tongue lapped at Maglor's throat. It was odd to be so aroused without the blood lust driving him on. He cried out when Maedhros' teeth sank into his throat, the pain intense as he was marked. He knew the bruise would be bright and deep, and he felt a deep sense of satisfaction at being Maedhros' once more.

He arched up, pressing his erection against Maedhros' belly. "I need you," he panted, squirming desperately under his brother's weight.

"As impatient as ever," Maedhros teased as he fumbled with the buttons of Maglor's shirt. "Such interesting clothing, but I like you better spread naked beneath me." Maglor's chest was soon bared to Maedhros' hungry eyes. He licked his lips as he leaned in, capturing a stiff nipple between his teeth. Maglor cried out, burying his fingers in his brother's copper hair. Maedhros sucked on the nub until Maglor whimpered in a mixture of pain and need, and then he moved to the other nipple. He lapped and bit at Maglor's chest until the younger Elf's pleas took on a note of true suffering. Only then did Maedhros abandon Maglor's chest, running his tongue from breastbone to navel, unzipping the leather that barred him from Maglor's engorged sex.

Maglor wiggled his hips to aid in the removal of his pants. He groaned with frustration when Maedhros had to stop to remove the boots still on Maglor's feet. His skin burned, and his chest rose and fell heavily as Maedhros finally tossed the clingy leather to the floor. He watched his brother hastily tug at this own clothing, tossing aside his tunic and leggings. Unable to stop himself, Maglor began to lightly stroke his cock as he stared excitedly at Maedhros.

The copper-haired Elf stood motionless, his eyes intently following the motions of Maglor's hand over his shaft. Maglor grinned up at Maedhros, spreading his legs in shameless entreaty.

Maedhros rifled through his bedside drawer, crowing in victory as he held up a small phial of oil. He climbed onto the bed between Maglor's lifted and spread legs, removing the stopper to the oil with his teeth. "You are still the most beautiful of all Eru's creations, tôren," he whispered, pouring a generous amount of the oil into his palm. He slicked the viscous liquid over his aching length; as he touched himself with his right hand, he braced his weight on his left so that he hovered over Maglor's trembling, over-heated body. He nipped at Maglor's swollen lips, his eyes half-closed as he gazed down at his brother. "I want to press your legs against your chest. I want to plunge into your body, hear you scream as I remind your body who its master is," he said raggedly.

Maglor chuckled. "You may plunge next week. At the moment, though, you must take care. I have _never_ permitted another to have me as you do."

"Never?" Maedhros asked.

"Never."

Maedhros smiled and bent down, meeting Maglor's open mouth with his. He kissed his brother deeply as he slipped a finger inside Maglor's tight passage. Maglor gave a pained cry, which Maedhros smothered with more kisses. He moved his finger carefully within his brother, smearing oil along the quivering channel. He withdrew his finger slowly, lifting his head from Maglor's sweet lips. "Are you ready?" he asked. Maglor seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then nodded. Maedhros smiled again and took himself in hand as Maglor lifted his legs more, further exposing his entrance.

Maglor held Maedhros' gaze as the elder Elf gently thrust forward. He bit his lip, refusing to make any sound as Maedhros continued to move inward. He bit so hard that he tasted blood and gasped when Maedhros snaked out his tongue, licking at the small scarlet smear.

"I can never escape the blood," Maglor whispered when Maedhros was fully embedded in his heat. "Always the blood..."

"Shh..." Maedhros soothed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Maglor's brow. He moved shallowly at first, allowing Maglor's body to grow used to being penetrated once again. As the muscles squeezing his shaft loosened, Maedhros began to thrust more forcefully; Maglor's soft, plaintive moans drove him onward. He withdrew until only the head of his cock remained inside the velvet passage. He waited there, a small smile playing on his full lips.

Maglor opened his eyes, glaring up at his elder brother. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded sourly. He tried to press back, tried to impale himself on Maedhros' thick length. When he couldn't, he mewled pathetically and clawed at Maedhros' back. "Maedhros!"

Without warning, Maedhros plunged into Maglor's backside. Maglor's nails dug into Maedhros' back as he arched upward, a sharp, short scream escaping his lips. Buried to the hilt, Maedhros laughed quietly. "I told you I would plunge into you, make you scream."

"You... evil... cruel," Maglor said between breathless moans as Maedhros set a new, almost frantic, pace. Maglor rested his ankles on his brother's shoulders, losing himself in the sensation of Maedhros' cock piercing him. The thick shaft and smooth in-and-out motion were both thrilling and inflaming. Maedhros had been the first, last, and only one to enter him; it was Maglor's gift to the brother he had idolized all his life.

He brought their lips together, pushing his tongue into Maedhros' mouth, almost intoxicated with his lover's taste, scent and sounds. Maglor slid a hand between their rocking bodies and gripped his hard length, rubbing the clear fluids leaking steadily from the slit over the dark head of his cock. He bit at Maedhros' lip, whimpering each time Maedhros pushed into him. He moved his hand steadily over his heated flesh, his muscles tensing as he neared his orgasm.

"Not yet," Maedhros murmured into Maglor's mouth between kisses. "Not yet."

Maglor nodded, every muscle in his body straining with the effort it took to stave off his climax.

"Hand off your sex," Maedhros commanded. When Maglor did not immediately comply, Maedhros stopped long enough to grasp both of Maglor's wrists in his left hand and hold them against the bed above Maglor's head. "Much better," he said, almost slamming back into his brother's body. He gazed down at Maglor's flushed face, memorized each expression as it crossed his face, and relished the intense pressure surrounding him, gripping him with each thrust.

Tears made silver tracks down Maglor's cheeks as he struggled in Maedhros' strong, firm grip. "Please," he sobbed, hiding his face against his upper arm. "Please, tôren aniaur." _(my older brother)_

"Not yet," Maedhros repeated, his voice strained as his release approached. He felt the fluttering in his stomach and the tightening of his sac, but he continued to pound into Maglor, unrelenting in his need for completion. When his orgasm did wash over him, Maedhros' back bowed, pushing his cock deep into his brother's body as his seed flooded the desperately clinging passage. He grunted, breathing out Maglor's name as the aftershocks rushed through him. Maedhros collapsed atop Maglor, the younger Elf's sobs soft in his ear. "Melethron," he whispered, kissing the cracked, dry lips and tasting a hint of salt and copper. "Now."

Maglor's glistening eyes followed Maedhros' journey down his body, the copper hair tickling a trail along his oversensitive flesh . Scorching wetness engulfed his cock; skilled muscles flexed and milked his eager arousal. He clutched at the bedsheets, his hips restrained by Maedhros' ever-present hands. His orgasm came in one massive, blinding surge, robbing him of sight, sound, and voice. He was only vaguely aware of Maedhros drinking him dry, of teasing the damp slit with his tongue, consuming all Maglor's body could offer. He floated weightlessly, basking in the warmth of his brother's presence and the sated bliss of orgasm.

Maglor was not certain when reason returned to him, but when he opened his grey eyes, he was tucked cozily under a quilt he recognized.

"Aye, it is the one Naneth made for us," Maedhros said, his voice vibrating in his chest, which Maglor's ear was pressed against. "I am sorry for tormenting you so, Cáno, but I wanted to taste you, not waste such a delicacy to sheets."

Maglor chuckled. "You are not sorry."

Maedhros was silent for a few moments, and Maglor almost drifted back into reverie.

"No, I suppose not," he said, kissing the crown of Maglor's head. "Do you miss him yet?"

The younger Elf hugged the elder just a little closer. "I will always miss him. Miss them both. But, I am yours. Always yours, and I desire to be no one else's. Ever."

Maedhros let out a long breath. "Good, because I did not intend to share you."

*****

"This is home," Glorfindel said, closing the door to the modest house. "I know it is not much, but I hope you will be happy here."

Erestor moved through the main living space, ignoring the kitchen and bathing areas, and entered the bedroom. The room was large and airy, facing the sea, and the bed dominated the room. It was a heavy piece of furniture, dark and substantial. It was covered in a dark blue quilt, and Erestor could see that white sheets adorned the bed. White. Pure. That was what Glorfindel was, and he was not.

He bit his lip and turned to flee the room, but Glorfindel stood in his way, a single candle cutting through the darkness of late evening. "What is it, melethen?" Glorfindel asked, putting the candle on a nearby table.

Erestor shook his head. "I am a terrible mate, Glorfindel! While you were here, pleading to have me brought to you, chaste in your pure white bed, I was reveling in blood and sex! And when I thought life was merely blood and lust, David came into our life. What I did with him was far worse than simply sharing my body. I shared my _heart_ with him, Glorfindel! I betrayed my promise to be yours. You were faithful while I was just dirty." Erestor's head bowed and soft sobs wracked his body. "I am so sorry, Glorfindel, so very sorry."

Glorfindel gripped Erestor's shoulders, looking down into the tear-streaked face he had missed so much. "Oh, Erestor, love, please, never be sorry. I do not care what you have done. That does not matter to me -- it never did! Do not leave. Do not leave me again. I love you. I love you so much that it burned like a fire in my heart, warming me on the nights when I missed you the most. But, now you are here. We are together! Let us not waste what is left of our eternity. Stay with me, meleth-e-guilen," he finished, dipping his head down and capturing Erestor's lips in a gentle kiss. (love of my heart)

"Echado veleth enni," Erestor whispered to Glorfindel, minute tremors coursing through his body. "Please." _(make love to me)_

"With pleasure, pen vorn," Glorfindel replied, running his tongue along the outer edge of Erestor's ear. _(dark one)_

Erestor shivered in Glorfindel's embrace, his heart racing with fearful anticipation. Glorfindel unbuttoned the silk shirt, kissing each patch of skin that appeared between the dark fabric. Erestor sighed and swayed where he stood, allowing the shirt to slip from his shoulders and fall to the floor. He then watched Glorfindel kneel in front of him, nuzzling his groin as he removed Erestor's boots. Erestor moaned, bringing his hands to Glorfindel's shoulders in case his knees failed him.

His socks followed the boots, and then he was there. The golden head hovering in front of his hips, his lips hovering above the prominent bulge pressing against the leather of his pants. Erestor bit his lip lightly as Glorfindel leaned forward, gripping the zipper with his teeth and pulling down. The blond Elf's hot, moist breath ghosted his erection, causing Erestor to gasp. As Glorfindel continued to unzip the pants with his teeth, his fingers easily released the button. Erestor shivered as the leather was peeled from his legs and the cool night breeze caressed his heated skin and aching arousal.

"Glorfindel," he choked out, gazing down at his lover, but the Elf ignored him, placing his hands on Erestor's hips.

Soft, warm lips kissed the hollows of his hips, tracing a path of fire down the crease where his thighs met pelvis. Glorfindel was so gentle, so slow in his actions that Erestor thought he would scream with barely restrained need. The blond Elf circled him on his knees, placing open-mouthed kisses over his buttocks and running his tongue hotly along the cleft of his backside, stopping just before that tongue could caress his entrance.

Glorfindel kissed and suckled, nipped and lapped from Erestor's waist down, but carefully avoided his weeping cock and quivering opening. Erestor clenched and unclenched his fingers in Glorfindel's tunic with frustration just before the blond stood. Erestor looked up into the sapphire eyes darkened with lust and he smiled. "Now will you take me to bed?"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Allow me a moment to undress and admire your beautiful body as you climb onto the bed, and I will be happy to do anything you ask of me, melethen."

Erestor kissed Glorfindel, thrusting his tongue into Glorfindel's mouth, tasting him as deeply as he could. Glorfindel moaned, pressing his own cotton-covered arousal against Erestor's bare one, forcing Erestor step back with a needy gasp. Black gaze met azure and then parted as Erestor turned to the bed, swaying his hips slightly as he walked.

As soon as he was on the bed, he felt Glorfindel's naked body pressed against his from behind. Strong, safe arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him against a broad chest where a heart beat rapidly. The two Elves lay on their sides, the light spooning the dark. Erestor shuddered as Glorfindel's shaft nestled in the crevice of his backside, promising remembered passions. Erestor tried to turn in Glorfindel's embrace, but the Elda held him tight to his chest.

"Nay, love. I want to hold you close, to smell your scent and know you will not disappear in a wisp of dream smoke the moment I find release," he breathed against Erestor's sensitive ear.

Erestor nodded, knowing the pain of waking from an intense dream of the mate of his heart, only to find himself alone or with Maglor, not Glorfindel. Slick, slender fingers pressed against his entrance and Erestor pushed back, opening himself to the intrusion. Two of Glorfindel's fingers easily slid into him, coating his insides with the oil, preparing him sweetly.

"We do not have to spend so much time on this," Erestor murmured impatiently.

Glorfindel smiled against Erestor's neck. "We may not have to, pen vorn, but I want to." The fingers thrust in and out in long strokes, massaging the passage with knowing movements. Glorfindel then did something only he had ever been able to do with the ancient Noldo. He crooked his fingers forward, toward Erestor's pelvis, and rubbed his fingers over an almost imperceptible little bump. Erestor bucked in his arms, the arm he was not laying on flying around to anchor himself by digging his nails into Glorfindel's side. Glorfindel grinned evilly, moving over that nub twice more, drawing frantic screams from Erestor's lips. "This is how I adore you, Erestor. Panting, screaming, and wild."

Erestor felt Glorfindel shift behind him and those devilish fingers leave his body. He took in gulps of air, his body still humming from the actions of his lover. Valar, Glorfindel would kill him this night! But, oh, what a sweet death it would be.

The blunt heat of Glorfindel's shaft pressed against his opening, nudging at the tight ring of muscle before it breached it slowly. Erestor's moan joined Glorfindel's cry of possession as he sheathed himself completely in Erestor's heat. They clung to one another, panting and trembling as the significance and gravity of the moment washed over him. They waited, their hearts beating together in the brief time before their urgency for completion overtook them.

Glorfindel used one arm under Erestor's body to cuddle him close while he took hold of Erestor's length in the other. The position Glorfindel had chosen offered two things the Elda wanted: closeness and shallow movement. The climb to the peak for them would be slow and torturous, but Glorfindel would have it no other way. He had dreamed of Erestor for so many years, ached to have him in his arms again, and he would not waste a moment of it on clumsy, frenzied lovemaking.

No, he would enjoy the clutching of Erestor's inner muscles, the feel of the dark Elf pressed against him, the soft sound he made every time Glorfindel swiped his thumb over the sensitive, sticky head of his arousal. These were their first moments together after fearing an eternity apart, and Glorfindel would not squander them.

Glorfindel thrust inside the tight confines, shallow, even thrusts that drew soft mewls of pleasure from his lover. With each push inside, Erestor's cock would twitch in his hand, a fine shiver traveling up the Noldo's spine. Glorfindel nuzzled Erestor's neck, and the dark Elf let his head fall to the side, exposing the pale, creamy expanse of his throat to the Elda. He suckled lightly at the thin flesh, feeling Erestor's pulse pound under his lips. It was the first sense of true life Glorfindel had found in Erestor since the first moment he had offered his bleeding wrist to the kneeling vampire millennia ago.

Erestor wanted deeper thrusts, wanted to be ravaged and sated. But, Glorfindel restricted their motions. A long push into his passage was coupled with a tight stroke down his length, and Erestor was caught between his need for release and his basking in the feel of Glorfindel inside him again.

Neither time nor the physical are mastered by the will, and the two Elves began to move with more need, more intent. They lost themselves to the sounds and smells of their coupling. The spicy, apple blossom scent of Glorfindel mingled with the crisp scent of lilies that clung to Erestor, and a blanket of musk mated both scents.

Glorfindel burrowed his face into the floral smells of Erestor's hair, a long, deep groan emanating from his throat as he spent himself in the core of Erestor. With the last spurt of his seed, Erestor's muscles clenched, drawing another cry from Glorfindel, his fluids christening the bed as his orgasm shook his body.

They did not move from their position. As Glorfindel's sex softened, he remained trapped by the tight ring of muscle. Their connection was sustained long after their hearts had slowed and the aftershocks had ceased. Erestor was just drifting off into reverie when Glorfindel kissed his neck, shifting so that he could speak directly into Erestor's ear.

"I spoke with Maglor earlier today when you and David were speaking with the Valar. He mentioned something that has intrigued me, but he told me I should ask you directly." Glorfindel sucked on the tip of Erestor's ear, and the dark Elf squirmed as his desire awoke again.

"And what was that?" he asked distractedly, feeling Glorfindel's cock stiffen inside him again.

"What," Glorfindel began, rocking inside the sticky passage, "is a doll-fin, and why does he laugh every time he speaks about an incident with one?"

*****

David wiped at the tears on his cheeks. After a long meeting with the Valar, and the departure of his companions, David had descended the great mountain and trudged toward the sound of water. It was dark by the time he reached the inlet that led to Tirion. He had not gone in the direction of the large Elven city. Instead, he had removed his boots, rolled up his jeans, and sunk his feet into the cool saltwater. There he remained, watching the stars come out and blur as his tears fell.

He was alone.

He was afraid.

But, he was happy for his lovers. Such pain in Erestor's heart, such darkness without his Glorfindel, how could he ever not want to see the smile of pure happiness that had bloomed on Erestor's face as he was held in the golden Elf's arms?

And Maglor. To see the great Elf fearful and needy... It was wonderful to know that Maglor could feel more than distant sarcasm and bloodlust. He could not fault either of them for grabbing onto the offered happiness with both hands.

If only he had the same hope. No, here he was odd. He was a Man who did not speak the language of the Elves and certainly did not look like one of them. His eternity, secured by Erestor and agreed to by himself, looked bleak and depressing indeed.

"Suilad." _(Greetings)_

A lyrical, light voice interrupted his dark mood, calling his attention to the tall, slender form standing near him. The Elf had long, dark hair like Erestor's, but it was pulled back on both sides by lovely silver clips. The Elf's eyes were wide and a clear, shimmering grey that seemed to dance with inner mirth. The face was sharp, but not unattractive, and his lips were full, kissed with a smile. He wore simple dark leggings, light boots, and a pale, silver-green tunic that reached his thighs. David realized he was staring and looked away, flushing in embarrassment.

"Pedich Edhellen?" the willowy Elf asked. _(Do you speak Elvish?)_

David shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

The Elf gracefully sat beside him on the bank, folding his legs under him. He thought for a moment, and turned his smiling face toward David again. "It has been many years since I spoke your language, but it is not forgotten to me."

"You speak my language?" David asked, the shock in his voice making the Elf laugh. The sound was warm and musical, and David could not help smiling in response. "It was a dumb question."

The Elf tilted his head. "Dumb?"

"Silly, foolish," he tried, fumbling for definitions.

"Ah," the Elf said, nodding his understanding. "No, it was not a foolish question. Most of us can speak the Common Tongue, and what we do not know, we can learn quickly. Perhaps you will teach us." David blushed again, and the Elf chuckled. "May I inquire your name?"

"David," he said, offering his hand. The Elf stared at it for a moment, and David shifted uncomfortably, withdrawing his hand. "It's a way of greeting where I am from, the shaking of hands."

It was the Elf's turn to blush. "Forgive me for being so rude." He cleared his throat. "David. What does it mean?"

David smiled. "'Beloved'."

"What a lovely name. In our ancient language, you would be called 'Melda'." The Elf held out his hand. "My name is Lindir."

David shook Lindir's hand, shivering when their skin touched. "What does it mean?"

Lindir tossed his hair over his shoulder, lifting his chin a bit. "'Singer'. I can sing and play any instrument placed before me. My mother knew what my occupation would be when I was an adult and named me appropriately."

They fell silent as David gazed at the sky. He was comfortable in Lindir's presence and he was happy the Elf had visited with him.

"Do you have a place to sleep?" Lindir asked.

David shook his head. "It seems Maglor and Erestor have found... better things to think of than me," he mumbled bitterly.

Lindir rested a hand on David's thigh. "They have suffered greatly, David. Would you deny them their reward?"

"No. It still hurts, but no," he admitted.

"Come to my home. I live in Tirion, near my former Lord and Lady. You are welcome to stay as long as you like." Lindir stood up and offered his hand to David. "Come with me, David." David's hazel eyes must have radiated his gratitude, because Lindir laughed that beautiful laugh again. "I do not mind sharing my home with one such as you, meldir. You are pretty to look at, and lovely to speak with."

David flushed further, taking Lindir's hand. He stumbled as he stood, and Lindir caught him before he fell. He was inches from Lindir's face, the Elf's strong arms wrapped around him. The Elf smelled of fresh water and aloe, clean and crisp, and his lips were moist and plump. David could not believe what he was thinking!

Lindir leaned in for a moment, placing a brief kiss on David's lips. "Come home with me, David."

"Yes," David said, smiling as the weight lifted from his heart.

He was home.

TBC...


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Tirion, Aman, 2015_

David has been gone for over six hours. I continue to watch the flame of the day candle inch lower. Dawn will approach soon, and I will light a new candle. By the time I do that, David will have returned.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks. Yes, he will come back to me, but he will smell of _them_.

At one point, Erestor had been a dear friend. Maglor... I had never known the famed Noldo, but I knew Maedhros. Erestor and Maglor had been my friends -- companions -- for the short time that all was well between us upon their return. Now, the two returned Elves were the things from my nightmares. I should have heeded Glorfindel's words when the Elda had spoken to me about David. Instead, I had laughed, brushing Glorfindel aside, telling him what David did and with whom he did it was none of my concern. We were not lovers; we were friends.

A week later, I woke beside the sleeping Man, my body still humming from the night's pleasures. I had not known at the time the agreement Glorfindel and Maedhros had made with their lovers and David. Had I known, I never would have bedded him, never fallen in love with him.

My bitter laugh, tinged with a sob, echoes in the silence of the room. I even lie to myself. I fell in love with him the moment he stepped from the ship to the dock. The jealousy was already making a home in my breast as I stood with the crowd, watching as he sucked at Maglor's throat with Erestor pressed against his back. I wanted him then, and by the time I had him in my bed, I would have agreed to anything to keep him there.

And agree I did.

I draw my legs to my chest and rest my forehead against my knees. The sheet that covers them smells of David's scent, which drives another dagger into my aching heart. I cannot blame him. No, I do blame him... Oh, I do not know whom I blame. All I know is, by the full moon of Ivanneth that year, David was kissing me sweetly and I was nodding, giving him permission to lay with Maglor and Erestor.

Tonight was the fourth Ivanneth since their return. I have endured each anniversary, smiling as David leaves my side to spend an evening at theirs. He always returns just as dawn breaks, smelling of lilies and spice, smelling of Erestor and Maglor.

I have grown to resent them, the two Elves who still keep my lover's heart. More tears fall, wetting the sheet, making it stick to my knees. I gaze at the smear of black over the white: my hair spread over the linens. I wonder, not for the first time, if David closes his eyes as I take him from behind and imagines that it is one of them. My hair is as long and as dark as theirs, and the thought haunts me -- even now.

The anger seethes just under the sorrow. We never discuss this yearly meeting of old lovers. He simply slips into bed, curling up behind me, and as I quietly weep, he falls into a deep, sated sleep. When he wakes, I am already dressed and in our courtyard, busying myself with some inane chore. He wakes, bathes, and we go about life.

Within a month, my sense of betrayal passes and I become my usual self.

Until the next Ivanneth moon.

I angrily wipe at the tears, but more come.

I know he kisses them.

I know he tastes them, swallows their seed as many times as he can.

I know he rests on hands and knees, allowing them into his body.

I do not know how I know; I simply do.

As I cry, I clench my hands into tight fists. My nails bite into my skin, drawing blood. I hiccough, my nose running, and I smear the blood over the damp sheets. I look around the room frantically, not quite sure why, and the sobs rack my body. The anger, resentment, bitterness and hurt fester, suffocating me with their intensity. It is a wound that I continue to scratch at.

Four years he has owned my heart, my soul, my body.

Four years I have shared his heart, his soul, his body.

Four years I have clung to my love for him, but the indignation I suffer for my understanding is now smothering that love.

There will not be a fifth Ivanneth moon.

David is _mine_ , and I will share him no more.

*****

The sky was just beginning to pinken with the first rays of dawn. The dark-haired Elf sat up in the bed, his nude body caressed by the cool morning breeze blowing through the open windows. His lover was just entering the room, his hair damp from a recent bath. He watched the sandy-haired Man strip his clothing, revealing bronzed, toned flesh under the cotton of his cloth.

His dark eyes followed the bronze figure as he mounted the bed, crawling in beside the Elf. Warm, soft hands touched his face, turned him to meet that steady hazel gaze. With that gentle touch, the resolve and determined resistance he'd built up bled out of him, just as it had every year past.

"Melethen?" the Man asked quietly.

Lindir smiled, wiping a lone tear from his cheek. "I am all right."

"Have you slept at all tonight?" David asked.

The Elf shook his head.

"You wept."

The Elf nodded his head.

"Why?" David whispered, kissing Lindir's lips softly.

"On these nights it seems as if you will never be mine," Lindir admitted, turning away from David.

He forced Lindir to face him. David looked up into his lover's eyes. "I am forever yours, though I may be theirs for one day out of a turning of this world."

"Why must you be theirs at all?" Lindir nearly sobbed.

David sighed. "Does it bother you so much that you cannot give us one night? One night, when you have all the others?"

"Maedhros cannot enjoy sharing his brother with you and Erestor," Lindir accused.

"And yet he does not stop us. If you want me to stop these yearly visits with them, Lindir, just say so and I will. I love you, even more than I love them. I never thought it was possible, but there you have it. I love you more than I love them." David sighed, staring down at his folded hands. "I will not sleep with them next year if it upsets you so much."

Lindir let out a savage cry as he pushed David onto his belly. "They have had you. I know you. You do not take them; no one takes them other than Maedhros and Glorfindel, but they take you. There is nothing of you that is mine, David!"

David did not protest, just remained still under Lindir's weight.

"Say something! Not your body, not your heart, not your love! None of it is mine alone," Lindir cried.

"I have offered to stop the yearly tryst, Lindir, if you would simply tell me to. You have not asked, and I will not offer it. Ask me."

Lindir snarled. "Why should I _have_ to ask? You should want _me_ , David, as I want you! I do not allow any other to touch my body, why do you?"

"Because I love them and they love me," David answered.

The Elf's soft hair brushed David's back as he bowed his head. "I want you for my own," Lindir whispered. His eyes moved to the table beside the bed where a shallow dish sat over a warmer. The candle had died long before, but the oil would still be warm. He reached over, dipping two fingers into the liquid. "I want to be the only one to touch you here," he hissed, sliding two fingers into David's passage, knowing how sore his lover would be.

David called out, drawing his legs under him and inching away from Lindir's intrusive fingers. "No, Lindir. Not now. I ache."

Lindir pressed down on David's back, preventing him from moving any further from him. He moved his fingers inside David, scissoring them, spreading him, feeling the slickness of other fluids. "I know you ache. You ache for days following your tryst. I have humored you for four years; I will humor you no more. Tell me to go, and I will. I will walk from this house and not return. If you do not tell me to leave, then spread your legs and ask me to take you."

The fingers continued to piston in and out of his body, and David bit his lip to keep from crying out. He was hard already, his sac sore from becoming aroused so soon after an orgasm. David could not tell Lindir to leave. He loved the Elf deeply and did not want to lose him. Erestor and Maglor would understand; their yearly night of bodily pleasure would have to cease. He took in a shaky breath and parted his thighs. "Will you take me?" he asked, his cheeks flushed painfully as he asked.

Lindir withdrew his fingers, gathering more oil onto them and adding the lubrication to his length. He was not as thick as many Elves, but he was long. He positioned himself behind David and thrust forward, penetrating him completely in one smooth movement. He felt David's muscles spasm around his shaft as the Man screamed to the dawn. Lindir did not wait, but pounded into David mercilessly.

David clutched at the sheets, burying his face in the pillow, as the force of Lindir's thrusts rocked him. His cock throbbed in time with his backside, and he wanted to reach under him, stroke his erection in the same frantic pace with which Lindir took him. He didn't dare, though, waiting instead for Lindir to offer him the release.

The Elf dug his fingers into David's hips, pulling David almost violently back as he pushed forward. His orgasm came too quickly, but Lindir let go, allowing his release to consume him in a wave of red-hot emotion. David was _his_.

He sat back, watching his seed drip slowly from David's abused opening. The small pucker of flesh was red and swollen, smeared with oil and semen, but a self-satisfied smile crossed Lindir's face as he stared at the creamy fluid slipping down the crevice of David's backside. He then noticed David was trembling, his heavy cock visible between his spread legs and tightly drawn sac. "You want release."

"Yes," David replied hoarsely.

Lindir smiled, sitting back at the foot of the bed. "Turn around and kneel in front of me."

David moved slowly, wincing as he pulled a muscle the wrong way. He knelt in front of his lover, hard and aching.

"Touch yourself," Lindir commanded in a low voice, his eyes flashing in the early morning light.

The Man swallowed visibly, lifting his hand and wrapping it around his cock. He stroked himself slowly at first, gaining speed the longer he took to reach completion.

"Spread your legs more, and lean back some," Lindir instructed, his eyes focused on the motion of the hand over hard flesh.

David flushed in shame, doing as his lover wanted. He parted his thighs further, and when he leaned back on one hand while the other continued to pump at his erection, he knew the adjusted position offered Lindir a view of his sac and the occasional drip of seed from his backside. It was embarrassing, but also arousing, and his shaft throbbed with a more acute need.

"Come for me," Lindir whispered in the stillness of the bedroom, and he crept closer to David's quivering form. "I want to see you come with my name on your lips."

David's eyes were half-closed as he stared down at Lindir, those pale grey eyes so fascinated by David pleasuring himself. With his words, though, a dam broke in him and a scream ripped through his throat as his essence covered his hand and belly. "Lindir!" David panted, his hand resting just below his softening sex. He gasped when Lindir's tongue lapped at the head of his cock, cleaning the tip of the creamy fluid. David watched through a sated haze as Lindir dutifully licked the seed from his body, leaving tender kisses after an area was cleaned of all cream.

David collapsed finally, his legs protesting their cramped position. Lindir slithered up his body, purring softly with a triumphant grin on his lips. "You are mine," he proclaimed quietly.

"I am yours," David replied.

"No more trysts."

"No more," David agreed.

Lindir nuzzled David's jaw. "I love you, David."

David embraced Lindir, holding the Elf close to his body. "I love you, Lindir."

And the dawn broke.

The End


End file.
